


At the End of All Things

by milgarion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, First Time, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milgarion/pseuds/milgarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry's life is turned upside down by a life threatening illness, he goes to the only place he has ever called home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many of you may have read this over on Fanfiction.net
> 
> I have even come across it many time blogged on other sites, so many of you already know that the original author of this work, Adrienne Turner, died shortly after finishing this piece. There have been so many kind words and messages of praise left for Adrienne, and i had always been my esteemed honour to have co written and beta'd on this piece.
> 
> We always wrote under the same name, and in moving the rest of my work to this archive I found myself unable to leave this piece behind. 
> 
> So i bring it once again to you, the reader, a little bit of Ady's beautiful world.
> 
> And those who knew her and loved her writing shall never forget.
> 
> *presented unedited and in its original form*

Harry shifted in his seat, flinching as his bitten fingernail snagged against the seat cover. He'd been passed from pillar to post this summer. In his second week he had left the Dursley's in favour of the burrow after it became apparent that Harry's laziness may have been something else, and so fearing for their ever precious son his aunt and uncle had packed him off to the only people who would be willing to take him.

There at the Burrow, Harry grew more listless, preferring to sit in front of the fire and read than play with the guys. Sometimes he didn't even manage to work up a smile in response to the twin's miscreant activities. Molly fussed over him to no end, plying him with sweets whilst declaring that all he needed was a good sugar rush and then he'd be as right as rain.

He wasn't. Arthur pulled a few strings at the ministry and managed to get a specialist appointment at St. Mungo's, fearing that with all the recent events catching up on him, Harry might be suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome.

They had talked to him. Persuaded him to see a counsellor, which he did. It wasn't that he wasn't right in himself., he wanted to go out and fly, he wanted to stay up all night playing hide and seek, he wanted to set up an elaborate trap for when Charlie came home. It's just that he...couldn't.

The counsellor, lovely girl by the name of Lucy, had passed her notes onto his next doctor, who had frowned and then (because he was the boy who lived) had Harry undergo just about every medical test in existence.

And that was how he came to be sitting here, in this uncomfortable chair whose stretched wool cover itched at the bare skin on his arms, in this clinically sterile office with nothing on the walls, nor any ornaments, not even a plant. Trying to digest the information that he was dying. He had cancer, complicated by the fact he was a wizard. A form of Non Hodgkin's lymphoma, it certainly explained his lethargy. It wasn't enough that he had this disease flowing in his veins, he couldn't go through normal procedure due to his prevalent magic. Turns out that many a good witch or wizard had been turned into squibs by muggle intervention. The treatment of cancer in the muggle world would in essence suck the magic out of him, the harsh chemicals binding with and destroying anything foreign in his blood stream.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry snapped out of his reverie so hard that he was sure something in his neck cracked. He lifted his eyes from where they had been fixed unseeing on the corner of the black wooden desk, the suns reflection blurred again on its polished surface before righting itself into white slashes against the pitch of wood.

"Mr. Potter. I can understand your shock but we need to discuss where we go from here."

Dr. Andrews. A nice enough man. Quite pleasant in both voice and appearance, looked at him with genuine concern. Obviously learning long ago that people very rarely wanted pity.

"There is a course of treatment that can be undergone," he said, shuffling through a folder for several sheets, sliding them across the desk to be left unseen in front of Harry. "But there are difficulties concerning it. Its complex and dangerous in its nature so therefore must be administered by a health professional, that in itself will require you to remain here during the treatment. There are of course" he looked up, a quick glance to take in the pallid face, "side effects. But they're nothing major, nothing that can't be fixed in one way or another. The length of the treatment depends on the person, as your condition was caught fairly early, and taking into account your age and relative fitness, it may only take a year to push you into remission. But there is of course the chance of relapse."

Dr. Andrews placed the folder on his desk and looked at harry. "Mr Potter?"

Harry pulled his arms across his chest, feeling suddenly cold, and so very aware of the shaking in his hands. He cleared his throat, fearing that maybe his voice wouldn't work.

"I'd have to stay at St Mungo's?"

Dr. Andrews nodded slowly, reaffirming it with a yes when realising he was out of Harry's peripheral vision. "We will of course need to speak to your guardians, they'll need to sign some of the paper work regarding your stay."

At this Harry looked up and shook his head. "I have no legal guardians."

And it was true. It was one thing that Vernon Dursley had made clear as they waited at the end of the drive for Mr Weasley to pick Harry up (By car this time). He had been told that as he would be turning eighteen next summer he could very well find his own place to live. Harry had tried to remind him that there were several weeks of summer next year before his birthday. His uncle just snorted, caught sight of the familiar blue Anglia turning the corner into his street and left.

Dr. Andrews looked at the topmost sheet in his folder. "Who are you staying with?"

"Mr and Mrs Weasley. Then I'll be returning to Hogwarts." Hogwarts. The realisation hit him and forced a gasp through his gritted teeth. He wouldn't be returning.

"Ah. I see. So you will be under the guardianship of Albus Dumbledore." He made a note in the margin with what Harry noted in a brief moment of clarity, a biro. The only biro he had ever seen in the wizarding world.

He felt slightly calmed at the mentioning of Dumbledore.

The headmaster's office was exactly the same as it had been every other time he had been in it. Except maybe for the streaks of hot summer rays pouring through the high windows. Harry had never stepped foot in this office in mid summer.

He ran his hand along the soft leather arm of the chair he was happily ensconced in, tracing obscure patterns on its worn surface. The headmaster himself was currently escorting Dr. Andrews to the front gate after a long and frankly tiring meeting that had held a lot of tears, promises and arguments. Professor Dumbledore had gone through the entire situation with Harry's doctor but as his guardian, refused to sign the papers releasing harry into the care of St. Mungo's. He had insisted that Harry would stay at Hogwarts and floo back and forth to St. Mungo's if necessary. This didn't bother Harry one bit, although they had been reminded in one of Dr. Andrews' rare fits of temper that any side effects would be accecerbated by the frequency of travel.

His thoughts were interrupted by movements on the stairs. He turned in his seat as the door opened, allowing a large tartan bag to pass through, followed closely by Harry's head of house. She caught sight of him and lowered the bag. There was no doubt that she had been told. It was just to cliché for someone to turn up uncalled on the day that one of their students arrives with news this bad.

Harry stood to greet her; only too aware of the ever-present tears in his reddened eyes. He tried to smile.

"Oh, Harry." It was a pained whisper that escaped her lips as she spread her arms. Without hesitation he went to her, burrowing his face in the soft velvet robe at her shoulder and crying so hard that he scared himself. Never before had he felt so desperate, so alone, so... everything. And yet nothing. And so aware was he that things shouldn't be like this. That it wasn't fair. Hadn't he done all he was supposed to, all that was asked of him? He felt the sun on his back, the sheer heat of the room he was in and thought that he should be outside, running about with Ron, de gnoming the garden. Or at the very least, lying in the flowerbeds at number four Privet Drive. But he wasn't. He was here, crying as though his heart had been ripped out in the arms of his head of house. He wasn't even aware of her stroking the unruly mop of hair as he pulled taught the rich fabric bunched in his fists.

It was to this scene that the others walked in. Dumbledore had returned, with company. Harry looked up with tear streaked eyes to see madam Pomfrey close the door quietly behind her, her sympathetic eyes roving his form as he extracted himself from McGonagals embrace. He acknowledged her with a nod, then turned his eyes on Snape. He stood unmoving at Dumbledores side with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Now we are all here, I just want to say something quickly. Please everybody, sit." He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. Harry sat back down in the one he was previously occupying, McGonagal sitting beside him and resting a hand on his arm. He looked over as a black robe was draped across the arm of the chair on his left. Snape sat down; eyes intent on the picture of his colleagues hand on his student's arm. His gaze shifted to Harry's, and for the first time in six years, they held no rancour, just a weird kind of non emotion.

"I've explained to you the situation," Dumbledore looked to each of them, who nodded in return. " will be staying with us for the rest of the holidays in order to start his treatment. I have arranged for hi s things to be taken to the guest suite on the south corridor. That way you'll be more centrally located" He added to harry. "The necessary documents are being sent over by hospital governors that outline the overseeing of Harry's medical care and that it will be undertaken by Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape."

Harry looked over at Pomfrey who smiled at him indulgently, then at Snape who was staring resolutely at a point on the far wall, apparently in a world of his own. All eyes turned to Dumbledore as he stood and walked around his desk. "Now. If that is all, I believe we all have things to be getting on with.

They all stood to leave, McGonagal holding the door open for Pomfrey as they left.

"Mr. Potter," Snape spoke quietly, "I will require you in my office at eight tonight."

It was strange, Harry thought, what it took for some people to be nice to you. Well, nicer.

Harry spent the remaining afternoon with the headmaster, moving his things into his room, talking about the arrangements, generally talking, crying some more and drinking a ridiculous amount of tea.

Dinner was in the great hall, though it seems that in the summer the staff sat at a smaller table due to the lack of numbers. Harry took a seat at the end of the table, opposite Dumbledore who was already handing out buttered carrots to Professor Flitwick who was teetering precariously on a stack of cushions. They ate mostly in silence, keeping their heads down and offering quick glances towards Harry's end.

The silence was interrupted by Professor Snape, who took the empty seat to Harry's right. He spared Harry a quick glance, but it was without the avoiding nature of the others, and commented softly, "I hope you don't have a fear of needles, Potter"

Harry looked up from his barely eaten meal and outright stared at the man who, Harry saw, wasn't actually eating either. He thought about pulling together a questioning frown, but knew better than to aggravate Snape, he settled for a simple "No Sir."

Snape nodded, seemingly to himself, whilst carving patterns into the small mound of potato on his untouched plate.

It seemed that during their little exchange the headmaster had taken it upon himself to ask how the others were, were they getting along in their chosen research, visiting any family soon and the like. The staff indulged him in their knowledge whilst Harry and Snape sat in their quiet little bubble at the end of the table, both, seemingly, wishing they were anywhere else but here.

At seven thirty he watched as Snape checked his watch for what must have been the tenth time in the last five minutes. The watch, Harry noted, was worn on the mans left arm, one of those with a wide leather strap. Most likely strategically placed to hide what was left of the dark mark. The man gave a short sigh in what could only be irritation and stood up, drawing his attention to the others.

"I'm leaving." No asking for permission, "And I'm taking Potter with me."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled in a genial way that no doubt got under Snapes skin before resuming his conversation with Professor Sprout. Snape motioned for Harry to follow him. He followed his Professor out of the hall and along the corridors that lead to the dungeons.

"Thank you sir." Harry kept his voice quiet as though giving Snape the option as to whether he had heard him or not. As it turned out, the man did.

"Don't mention it. You looked as bored as I did." No inflection in the otherwise curt reply. Harry cleared his throat a little.

"Thanks anyway. And for...everything. I know your not enamoured with the idea of doing this for me, or...Dumbledore" He shrugged in a way that made it quite obvious that he thought Snape was probably being ordered to help him by their ever delightful headmaster, "but I appreciate it all the same."

He was waiting for a scathing reply along the lines of the world bowing at his feet, how all other mortals shall cease their actions in deference to their saviour's pain. Snape was silent. Which upon reflection worried him.


	2. Chapter 2

The dungeons were the same as they always had been, although maybe a little dryer and warmer now that the summer air was allowed to drift through their narrow corridors. Their walk took them past the route to the Slytherin dormitories, past the classroom in which Harry took potions and to a door two doors along from the one he knew lead to Snapes office.

Snape opened the door and made to go through, backed up a little and turned to Harry, who's hand he took hold of and pressed to the warm oak panelling of the door. There was a muttered word and a sudden rush of what felt like wind, only it affected Harry and not Snape. Seemingly satisfied he carried on through the door, holding it open for Harry to follow.

Set along the back wall was a large wooden table and sink upon which was set up such a complicated array of equipment that harry figured they belonged in some muggle science fiction tv show. Bubbling and flowing through various tubes was a weird pale purple liquid that was slowly draining into a glass.

Harry recognised it. In the sense that he knew what it was, having never actually seen it before. This was the potion that was supposed to cure him. The life saving philtre that he would have to take every day until he got the all clear. Whenever that was. And suddenly he was overcome with such an enormous sense of gratitude towards Snape, the man hated him, and here he was saving his life again.

"You might want to sit down." The mans voice caused harry to jump and turn to where Snape was indicating. Against the other wall was a bed, simple and clinical, but comfortable, harry noticed when he climbed up onto it. "You'll need to take off your jumper and roll your sleeve up. Left arm."

Harry pulled his sweater over his head, messing up his already disruptive hair, whilst watching his Potions Master busy himself around the room, turning the valve that stopped the liquid draining into the beaker, transferring it so that it sat over a flame. The way Snape looked at him, unbuttoning his jacket whilst harry rolled up his sleeve, made it seem to Harry as though they were going to fight.

He draped the jacket over the chair next to the bed, and reached over to the stand near Harry to lift a tray holding a lot of things Harry had seen in hospital dramas.

"You're sure you don't have a fear of needles?" Snape asked. And in any other situation the lack of sarcasm and spite in his voice would have told harry that the man was enjoying this. As it was he used the same tone he had been using all evening. This time harry only affirmated with a nod, gaze firmly locked on the tray as Snape pulled on a pair of white latex gloves.

"Let me explain." He spoke very quietly, so that harry had to give all his attention just to hear what he was saying. "You will be required to come down here to this room every night at eight thirty, the treatment you will be undergoing needs a daily dose of your magical signature, which is found most strongly in your bloodstream. Don't worry, it's only a small drop which I'll get using this." He lifted a small device that Harry had seen one of the younger kids in Gryffindor use, he was diabetic so he had to check blood levels everyday. Snape carried on. "It's needed to regulate the strength of certain ingredients in the potion, too much of one thing on the wrong day and you could end up more useless than a muggle." He paused, pulling a length of plastic tubing from a sterile wrapping. "I assume Dr. Andrews told you how the potion works?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Good. Now, because this has to be administered intravenously you'll have to have a cardio catheter in place, which is going to be uncomfortable, and I recommend wearing short sleeves to stop it catching. And put a plaster over it." He looked up at harry, who had gone an interesting shade of white. "This is why I ask about the needles. I'll have to replace it every three days, just try to keep it clean."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as Snape took hold of his arm, pushing the sleeve of his shirt a little higher. The man cast a quick glance behind him at the glass of purple liquid heating gently over the flame then turned back and bent to his task. The sterilising solution was cold on Harry's skin and he twisted his hand in the sheets of the bed. Waiting for the sharp stab of pain he looked down at where Snape was tracing the path of his vein with his thumb, the head of the large needle angled, ready to pierce.

It didn't actually hurt as much as Harry had thought it would, the smooth slide of foreign plastic into his arm followed by the placement of a strip of plaster designed to hold it in place all carried out with professional accuracy. He opened his eyes; previously squeezed shut so hard that lights played in front of his eyes.

Snape stood and walked over to the bench, turning off the flame and swirling the potion within its glass chamber. Harry looked down at his arm, at the odd intrusion that stood out so blatantly against his tanned arm. Now he looked ill. Only people who were sick had to have things like these placed on their body.

His hand was taken up again and turned over, palm facing up. Snape picked up the device he had mentioned earlier and clamped it down over Harry's middle finger. Now that hurt, Harry winced as the pad of his finger was squeezed, dark red welling up through the pin prick and dripping once into the glass that Snape held under his hand. The man let go of him in favour of retrieving a glass stirring rod. Harry pulled his hand back to him, placing the injured finger between his lips and licking at the wound. He watched in morbid fascination as his blood dispersed in the liquid, turning the potion darker as it was stirred.

A decent amount was pulled from the jar, syringe tapped to knock out any air before it was lowered and fixed to the open end of the catheter. The warm rush of fluid entering his system was unlike anything Harry had ever felt. He had the sudden urge to throw up but fought it down, opting instead to bite his lip in an effort to distract himself.

Once done, Snape discarded everything and set an incinerating charm on it. "You'll need to go up to the infirmary now, we decided that it would be best that you sleep there for the first week while you get used to the treatment. Madam Pomfrey will take care of any side effects you have."

Snape stopped what he was doing and turned to harry, an open and frank look on his face. "I'm not going to lie to you Potter. This isn't going to be a walk in the park. This treatment is difficult and trying, you're going to become so ill your going to wish you could die. But you can't give up; it will only work as long as you give yourself strength. Negative thinking will only kill you." His voice drifted off and harry got the distinct impression, through his shock, that Snape might have been talking from past experience.

Harry spent the night in the infirmary, after being escorted by Snape, who must have thought he needed a safe guard. And it was a rough night, spending more time out of bed than in it, sitting with a cold ceramic bowl on his bared knees, stomach cramping in protest of the foreign poison rushing through his body. Pomfrey stroked his back, smoothed his hair and held him straight when in his exhaustion, his traitorous body tried to slip from the chair. He managed to get some sleep early in the morning after Pomfrey had given him a mixture that Harry had managed to keep down.

Dumbledore visited him an hour or so after he had woken up, presented him with the news that the cannons had won their latest match and offered him a lemon drop, which Harry had predictably refused. McGonagal came by shortly after with a whole host of magazines for him to read, she stayed for a while and talked nonsense, mainly about the trouble she was having with a large family of Kneazles that had decided to take up residence in the back garden of her home in Aberdeenshire. There were other visits throughout the day, Flitwick and sprout dropped by at some point in the afternoon, followed by Sinistra, and amazingly Snape, who came on the pretence of finding out how the potion had effected him.

By the early evening, Harry had felt well enough to eat something and was helped down to the dungeons by Pomfrey who stood by his side and winced sympathetically when his finger was pricked. She rubbed his arm in a soothing gesture as the purple liquid was forced into his veins. Harry understood now why there was a bed in this room and he sank down on it gratefully while Snape and Pomfrey had a quiet word on the other side of the room.

He gazed up at the ceiling, which was at that moment behaving in a way that ceilings should not behave in. it was in fact swerving dangerously from side to side, then occasionally dropping a few feet closer to him.

"Come on Mr. Potter, let's get you back into bed." Madam Pomfrey helped him sit up, bracing one hand against his shoulder as he pitched forward a little. He slid off the high bed and gained unsure footing on the cold stone floor. He sucked in a deep breath and made what he thought was a heroic effort in focusing his vision.

They both escorted him up to the infirmary, Snapes assistance needed when Harry's knees threatened to give out. They finally managed to get him back to the cool hospital wing, where Harry promptly burst into tears, thankfully after Snape had left. Because he was damned if he was going to cry in front of him.

And so it carried on like this. Harry spending his unrestful nights in the infirmary, most of his days catching up on sleep before going down for his nightly trip to the dungeons. Harry had taken what Snape had said to heart. He was determined to beat this, was determined to be positive, he would do it or would literally die trying. And so after every pain wracked night, after every time he woke up feeling more tired than when he went to sleep, after every time he had his needle changed he would give himself a mental shake, tell himself to think positive, and he would smile.

Two weeks into his stay, when he was entertaining the idea of moving back into his rooms like Dumbledore had said, he heard mass movement in the corridor outside, then several heads popped around the door frame. The Weasleys had come to see him, and brought Hermione with them, who, upon seeing Harry, squealed in both sadness and joy and launched herself into his arms, crying like he had done that day with his head of house. Ron sat on the bed next to him and offered a tentative smile. Harry hadn't had much of a chance to speak to Ron since the day he had found out and could still remember his friends vehement protests that anything could be wrong. He had shared Harry's frustrations that it wasn't fair and he had reassured him that no matter what happened he would always be there for him.

He smiled back and took his hand, which was shockingly cold, in his. Hermione looked up briefly in order to pull Ron into their embrace, which set them all off, the three of them crying like children with grazed knees. After a while Harry grew aware of other sniffs and looked up at the rest of the Weasley family who descended on him to give comforting hugs and kisses. When all that was done and Molly and Arthur had gone off in search of Dumbledore Harry asked the twins slyly if they had had the chance to play that trick on Charlie. To which they nodded and pointed silently at the bald patch on the back of their brother's head. Even Hermione had laughed.

They left shortly before dinner, but not after Dumbledore had promised that both Ron and Hermione could visit for the weekend. Although Harry got the feeling that Hermione was more interested in the private use of the library than visiting him. And so it was with a smile on his face he made his way down to the dungeons that evening.

"You're in a good mood" Snape commented, focus solely on the removal of the catheter in Harry's arm.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is letting Ron and Hermione visit this weekend." He replied, hardly wincing as Snape lifted his thumb in order to slide a fresh tube into his much-abused vein, placing a skin coloured plaster over it.

"Good. It will do you well to have your friends around you." Was the unexpected reply. Harry had thought that with the news of more students interrupting his precious holiday Snape would have had more vitriolic things to say. But Snape was a surprise unto himself. Every night Harry had braced himself outside the mans door ready for scathing remarks from the acid tongue, instead the man was calm, almost indifferent to Harry's presence. Tonight was the first night that he had actually broached a subject that had not linked directly to his treatment.

Often, when Snape had finished administering his potion and harry had turned away in order to arrange his shirt a little better, he would catch sight of the man in the reflection of one of the many glasses and he would see the momentary look on his face. He looked almost... sad. And it was so strange to Harry to see his Professor as a man, to sit and watch him work silently as he got ready to see to Harry, the focus and concentration he had every time he took Harry's arm carefully in his hands.

But despite this Harry couldn't help but be confused. Was this the real Snape? Sure he had been a little less die hard towards the end of last year but he still wouldn't have been seen giving Harry the time of day, or any Gryffindor for that matter. So what was this? Was it all just an act? It wouldn't make sense for a man to act completely different whilst on holiday, so that only meant that he was acting during term time.

His musings were cut short by the ever-nauseating feel of warm liquid entering his veins. Harry didn't think he would ever get used to that bit. Snape pulled out the syringe and replaced the tube cap.

"So how has everything been going? Albus says he's letting you back into the guest suite." Snape placed the equipment on the metal tray, took it across the room to where he usually disposed of it and set it down, looking back as Harry sank down onto the bed like he did every night after the whole process.

"Yeah. And I think it'll help. Being in the infirmary all the time only reminds you why you're there. Maybe Ron could bring me some posters to put up or something" he yawned widely as he settled down. Comforted by the usual sounds of Snape going about his business.

"You're probably right. But what should happen if you fall ill in the night?"

Harry shifted onto his side so that he could see the man he was talking to. "Professor Dumbledore has it set up so that I can call Madam Pomfrey whenever I need her. I should be fine though, all I ever do is throw up and I think I can handle that on my own. Besides I think the headmaster mentioned something about having a house elf check up on me every now and then."

"But knowing some of the elves that Hogwarts employs that could be more of a hindrance than a help."

Harry smiled, thinking of Dobby and agreeing that Snape was probably right. He then had to shake himself, he had just agreed with Snape. He surprised himself, but no more than Snape did with his next sentence.

"Well, if you should ever need me. Ill always be here."


	3. Chapter 3

"For God's sake Hermione! We've only just got here and your off to the library?!" Harry was sure that Ron could be heard down in the dungeons and wondered if Professor Snape was still being to genial about the invasion of his privacy. "Harry's gonna think you don't want to see him!"

"Oh, of course I want to see him, you know that don't you Harry?" she looked at him with the injured puppy look. "It's just we'd never get the chance to use the library all by ourselves."

"But you've already done your homework. In the first week!" Harry giggled at Hermione's affronted look; he tried to settle the peace.

"We can all go, Hermione can work, and we can play chess." Ron smiled at this suggestion and went off to find the board Harry assured him was on the top shelf in the wardrobe.

Once there, the board set up and Hermione off ferreting around in the transfiguration section talk inevitably turned to Harry.

"So how is everything?" Ron was being uncharacteristically serious, a sign of his growing maturity. "Dad got some information from your doctor that I've been reading. It doesn't sound nice." He screwed his nose up as Harry took a pawn.

"As good as it can be, I'm just glad you weren't here a week ago. The effects of this stuff are making me feel worse than I would without it. I was throwing up all night, I couldn't move, couldn't eat, sleep, drink. I was just crap! But Madam Pomfrey is great; she has me drink all these things before I get the chance to be sick. They help me through a lot but I still feel pretty rough a lot of the time." He took a drink while Ron considered his move.

"Like I said, sounds nice!" moving his kingside castle, he looked up. "Oh god Harry, I'm sorry. I just can't believe this is happening. I mean, who did you piss off in your past life?!"

Harry laughed. He knew Ron hadn't meant it as a joke, but he just couldn't help himself. The noise brought Hermione back to the table, clutching several books in her arms and enthusing that she could rewrite her entire essay. Harry groaned as he tried not to think about the homework he had yet to do.

"But I don't think any of the teachers are seriously going to expect Harry to do his homework, what with everything going on." Hermione admonished.

"I don't know. McGonagal can be very strict and you can bet your life that Snape's going to want his work, he'll probably give Harry extra work just for inconveniencing him." Ron looked sullen as Harry took another pawn.

"He hasn't been that bad actually," he was met with interested stares, "Well, he's Snape, you know, but it's like there's this whole new person. I don't know if he's acting or just being himself. It's... weird." He placed the pawn at the side of the board.

"Speak of the Devil!" Ron muttered, all eyes swerving to the door that Snape had just opened, eyes roving over Harry and his friends. He walked over to their table and placed an official looking envelope on the table in front of Harry.

"This came for you this a while ago. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give it to you. I think it came from St. Mungo's."

Harry slid the envelope to him and prised the seal apart, spilling the contents onto the table. Several sheets of paper were wrapped together with an elastic band and Harry got the impression that Dr. Andrews had a penchant for muggle stationary. He pulled the band off and scanned the pages one by one.

"It's a copy of my medical files. I guess you should keep these." He handed the papers back to Snape who took them and placed them back in their envelope.

"Very well. If you would prefer, you could come down a little earlier tonight, after dinner perhaps. That way your evening won't be disrupted." Harry was momentarily stunned by his thoughtfulness and answered with a less than firm "Yes sir, that would be great, thank you."

Snape took a step backwards and nodded to both Ron and Hermione "Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger." He looked back at Harry. "I shall see you at dinner." And without waiting for a reply he turned and left them to their game. Harry turned to Ron.

"See what I mean?"

"Yeah...weird."

Dinner was an interesting affair; the table was slightly larger today, no doubt due to a little resizing by Dumbledore, due to their slightly increased numbers. Professor Flitwick spent twenty minutes demonstrating how far he had gotten with his research on a new levitating spell, one which required less energy and had longer results. Although this statement coincided perfectly with a tureen of mashed potato falling from its perch in mid air. Everybody sitting at the table got a good pelting, most choosing to stare dumbly at the spot where it landed, others continuing as though nothing had happened. Snape however, wiped his sleeve clean, excused himself, invited Harry down when he was finished and left.

Ten minutes later Harry found himself again on the outside of the oak panelled door waiting for Snape to answer with a barely uncontrollable Hermione close to his ear. She seemed to think that Harry's treatment was fascinating and had asked to come along, and so Ron, intent upon not being left alone, came too.

Snape answered, mouth open as if to say something, but stopped dead at seeing who was at the door. "I hope you don't mind sir." Was what Harry had said, although the look in his eyes clearly said, 'sorry but they just wouldn't leave me alone'. He sighed in what he hoped was a melodramatic fashion and let them enter.

Hermione went wide-eyed at the potions equipment, and Ron followed Harry as he climbed up on the bed.

"Miss. Granger. I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch anything. I should think that given your vast knowledge of the subject you can understand why." Snape's remark was dry, but all three of them recognised it as a backhanded compliment. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry, who gave him a knowing look in return.

Hermione gave up on her mental potions and came to stand next to Ron, who stood a safe distance from Snape, watching as he went about things as if they weren't there.

"You've been picking again." He muttered softly, pointing to the catheter that Harry's fingers were tracing around idly. Harry blushed red and snatched his fingers away.

"I think some blood leaked out and dried, it's been a little itchy." He shifted as Snape sat down in front of him, sleeves rolled up, gloves on and a new needle and tube in his hand.

"I think it may be best to put this in your other arm, give the other one a chance to heal." Harry nodded a little; he hadn't much like the initial piercing of his flesh. So instead of looking at what Snape was doing he looked over at where Ron and Hermione were standing. 'Mione was looking in fascination at every movement Snape made, whereas Ron just looked a little green.

It was a little more uncomfortable in his right arm, what with how much he bent it. Snape took blood from his little finger this time, which Harry found hurt more than any other. He hissed and pulled his hand back, glaring a little at his Professor who stood patiently with his hand held out.

When he was done he said nothing more than "Same time tomorrow night." And closed the door behind them. The smooth click of two inches of solid wood seeming a good enough barrier for Ron and Hermione. They launched into a long, many theoried conversation about the 'new' Snape which lasted to the infirmary where it stopped for a little while harry took the medication he needed to counteract the side effects, and then carried on until they all went to sleep that night. All their duvets and pillows dragged in front of the fireplace so that they could sleep together.

It was strange, Harry thought, as he was drifting off to sleep that night, that he had quite enjoyed talking about Snape.

The next day was a bad one. He woke early with the dire need to throw up and had only just made it to the bathroom, where he had lain propped against the cold tile wall until Hermione had found him a couple hours later.

He now lay shivering despite the over abundance of warm blankets on the couch in front of the fire trying to catch up on a little sleep while Ron went off in search of Madam Pomfrey. Who returned about twenty minutes later with varying samples of different potions she wanted him to drink. He forced down each one and promptly fell asleep.

He woke later to see Ron and Hermione playing a quiet game of chess, whispering commands to the chess pieces who complied without a noise. He smiled and realised how lucky he was to have two steadfast friends. He watched them for quite a while until Ron looked over to where he lay and found him awake.

Harry had insisted they finish their game and then suggested they went for a walk. Hermione objected but Harry insisted that he felt better and thought that maybe a little fresh air and some exercise might do him some good.

"Not wanting to freak you guys out or anything. But I have a bad feeling about this."

They were halfway to the lake, near the tree that two generations of Potter's had sat beneath when Harry made this remark. It caused the others to stop in their tracks and stare at him.

"What!" he said defensively, "I'm just being realistic. Dumbledore said that maybe I should start thinking about things if...all doesn't go to plan."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione looked as though she would cry again.

"Please Hermione? I have to face facts. There's a very real chance that I won't make it through this whole procedure. I mean Dr. Andrews told me that I'd be able to fight it better because I'm young and everything. But there's still only a thirty- percent chance of beating it. Pomfrey gave me a book all about it, there's only been three hundred cases in the past hundred years, and I think it was only eighty three of them survived." Ron was beginning to look uncomfortable as the dropped to sit down at the base of the tree.

"It's just...I want you guys to know that I might not be here at the end of the year, and I don't want you to treat me any different. Don't worry, I won't start going on about wills and funerals for a while yet. Still got a lot of thinking to do." He smiled at them both who gave him very uncertain smiles back.

"Well...thirty percent. We've had worse odds at beating Slytherin but you still came through." Ron shrugged, trying to lighten the dampened mood.

Harry gave a laugh of gratitude towards him and swiftly changed the subject. They talked mostly about what the others had been doing over the summer. Hermione told them about her trip down the river Rhine and the fireworks they set off at night. Ron mentioned quite a few of the stunts that Fred and George had played since Harry had left the Burrow. Hermione kept a contemptuous frown on her face throughout his speech.

Around lunchtime Harry complained that he was getting a little cold as the weather had turned slightly and so they head back up to the castle. They went down to the kitchen to eat, well the others ate, Harry just picked the ham out of a bit of quiche and ate that. The houselves were all very pleased to see them and kept wishing Harry well, plying him with camomile tea claiming that it had very soothing qualities to it. Harry had taken it just to stop their nagging.


	4. Chapter 4

"Another letter came this morning harry," Dumbledore said brightly, passing a plate of sausages to Professor Vector. "Dr. Andrews requests that you meet him this Tuesday, he wishes for you to undergo some tests."

Harry looked down at his plate, poking his peas around in a sea of gravy. He'd forgotten about the monthly visits to the hospital. He cleared his throat and asked "What time?"

"Eleven thirty. He also asks if Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey could attend?" Respective nods. "Professor McGonagal has agreed to take you as the part of a guardian. I think he just wants to talk to you all." He smiled and reached over to get a Yorkshire pudding, tucking his beard into his belt to prevent it dragging through his dinner.

The next day he bade farewell to Ron and Hermione when Mr and Mrs Weasley came to pick them up. Again there were tears and promises to owl them with any news about Tuesday. Harry had assured them he would and waved them off. He sat on the front steps for what must have been three hours just staring at the spot where they had vanished until all around him had gone dark.

Professor McGonagall had found him. Apparently he had caused a miniature panic inside the castle when he hadn't turned up for dinner and she scolded him quite thoroughly for it. She had led him all the way back to his room and then apologised for being so harsh.

Harry had lounged around reading until it was time for him to go down to the dungeons. Which he had done ten minutes early so he could take his time, running his fingers across the wall, arm dragging behind, looking the epitome of boredom.

"So what kind of things is Dr. Andrews going to ask you?" He sucked the recently pricked finger into his mouth to soothe it and watched as Snape stirred the purple concoction.

"He'll just want to know how you're getting on, with the treatment, any side effects, in general." He took his time pulling the correct amount into the syringe.

"How do you think I'm doing." Harry asked. Snape looked him in the eye. It still unnerved Harry that the man didn't sneer when he looked at him any more.

"Very well considering the circumstances. I think the Headmaster was right in bringing you to the castle. Surroundings are everything when you're ill." He always noticed the slight tightening of Harry's face when he injected him. "How do you think you're doing?"

Snape placed the used syringe on the metal tray, pulled off the gloves and burned the lot. "Good, I think." Was Harry's reply. He saw Snape raise his eyebrow in a clear gesture that he should elaborate. "Well, the stuff Pomfrey gives me stops me feeling to sick, although I was the other night. But the rest I think is everything just piling up on each other. I mean, I always ache and I get really dizzy sometimes but other than that..." He shrugged.

"That's to be expected, your body is having to fight so many things at once. You'll feel like that a lot."

Harry lay down, fluffing the pillow behind his head as he heard Snape clearing things up. The ceiling was behaving today. He fidgeted a bit and thought about the other man in the room. Should he ask? What if Snape got annoyed with him, then that would be really awkward. But then, he was being quite nice, and he hadn't been impatient with him when he had asked other questions. But they were about other things, not Snape. To hell with it...

"Sir?" Harry mentally kicked himself. That one word had sounded so desperately loud in the quite room.

"Yes?" well he'd have to ask now. Snape would think him a right idiot if he just said 'nothing'.

"Are you always like this?" the movements on the other side of the room the small noises stopped and Harry gave himself another mental kick.

"Could you specify?" harry wished the man would inject a little emotion into his voice so that he could tell if he was pissed off or not.

"Err... well, I mean, it's just that...I mean, you're different." Smooth talking Harry.

"In what way?" Question with a question.

Harry sighed, still not quite ready to open his eyes and actually face the man. "Well, you're not as mean. Like you are when students around."

"I think you've just answered your own question Mr. Potter. There are no students around." The movements started again.

"But I'm here, and you're ...kinda nice to me."

"Because, Mr. Potter, I would indeed be heartless if I were to be cruel to a dying boy."

That shot Harry down. So Snape was only being nice because he pitied him. He opened his eyes and stared back up at the ceiling hoping that the cool air would dry the tears in his eyes.

"Oh." It was lame and Harry knew it. What was he thinking? Of course Snape wouldn't actually like him, he was just an inconvenience to him, taking up his time and skills. Harry felt as though a dementor had entered the room. Like he'd just had a bucket of ice water flushed through him and he shivered despite himself, pulling the sleeve of his jumper down and pulling it close around his body.

But then why should he care? It's not as if Snape's opinion had mattered to him before, he had never wanted or sought the man's approval or, heavens forbid his friendship. What hurt him was that he thought that maybe the man was different, that maybe he could get to know him a little better, after all he had Harry's respect now. What Snape had done for their side went way above and beyond the call of duty and there were quite a few occasions when Harry had known that if he were in that situation he would have fallen.

Harry shook himself and sat up, sliding off the bed and surreptitiously wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He shifted the sheets back into a semblance of order and made for the door.

He was just touching the handle when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Snape. Which shocked him because, aside from having to handle his arm on a daily basis, he had never seen his Professor touch anybody, not even his Slytherins. Harry froze, not entirely sure what to expect. He followed when the hand tugged a little on his shoulder, bidding him to turn around. Standing relatively close behind him was a man he was sure he'd never seen before. At least, he didn't recognise him.

He hadn't ever seen his Professor look quite so human. He looked tired and just as sad as when Harry had caught glances of his reflection.

"I've upset you haven't I?" even his voice was tired and Harry was overcome by a sudden sense of guilt. He had no idea just how long it might take to make this potion every day, and he was sure that the man probably had other things to be getting on with. As for the question, he had no idea what to make of it and even less of an idea as to a reply. He couldn't even think properly whilst pinned beneath the black stare and heavy hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head casting his gaze to the floor, knowing how good he was at reading thoughts. Snape really wasn't the kind of guy you could keep a secret from, like parents, he always found out in the end.

"It came out wrong." Harry looked back up. "I meant to say that..." the hand slipped from his shoulder and busied itself by running through Snape's hair, a gesture that struck Harry as casual in a way that Snape had never been, which fascinated Harry just that little bit more.

"There's no sense in it. Being cruel I mean... to you." It was a quiet admission, not quite an apology but Harry could see the effort it had taken the man to say it. And then he was a little warm again and nodded in a timid way to show that he had understood.

"I won't keep you any longer." He reached past Harry to take the handle of the door and open it for him, who thanked him quietly and left. And it was only when Harry was on the other side of the door that he realised that he had thanked the man more for what he had said, than what he had done.

He had spent much of the morning recovering from a nasty dizzy spell which had in turn brought on the sickness, Pomfrey fussing over him like a mother hen, and then gone out for a bit of air. Turned out that the fresh air had done him well as he sucked the fresh cool breeze into his lungs. He could tell that summer was coming to an end, they still had sunny days this far up the country but there was a definite chill in the air that required three layers of t-shirts, shirt and jumper just to keep warm.

He walked round the edge of the lake picking up flat stones and carrying them in his jumper, the front of which he folded up like a pouch. He dumped them further up the shore where there was a little bit of a beach and no chance of being bothered by the squid. He then proceeded to skip them across the lake, smiling each time he beat his own record. Every now and then he would check his watch, deciding that in another ten minutes or so he would head back up to the castle to meet with the others before they set off for St. Mungo's.

He wiped his hands against each other as the last of his stones sank into the navy water and turned around, only to give himself a mild heart attack because standing quietly behind him was none other than his favourite Potions Master. Harry gave a little yelp and jumped back, the sand making his footing unsteady. And to make the situation a little more surreal, Snape smiled. It seemed that the man had been there for quite some time.

He looked back up to the castle, then to harry, head tilted a little and an interesting expression on his face.

"Shall we?"

Harry shifted nervously as the nurse capped the fresh vial of blood she had taken from him. She picked up the scan notes she had just taken and disappeared into another room. He rubbed idly at the plastic intrusion in his arm, then snatched his hand away at the thought of what Snape would say if he had caught him. Damn if he wasn't thinking of him too much.

The same nurse popped her head in and told him he could wait in Dr. Andrews's office and that the results shouldn't take that long. Another marvel of mediwizardry, no waiting weeks for test results to come back. Harry swung down of the bed and walked out of the small examination room. The nurse pointed him down the corridor, which was unnecessary, as he remembered where the office was from last time.

He knocked quietly and waited for the bid to come in. Professors McGonagal , Snape and Madam Pomfrey were all sat in front of that high polished desk, the surface of which was littered with notes that his doctor was currently pouring over. He waved Harry over to the unused chair and carried on reading, making little noises of understanding every now and then.

Harry settled himself into the familiar wool covered chair, glad this time that his arms were covered. It was funny, they must have sat there for nearly an hour, mostly in silence, occasionally a question was asked and one of his three chaperones would answer. But despite this, Harry hadn't felt this calm for a long time. Eyes drooping he shifted again, arm brushing against the cloak that Snape had removed and placed over the back of his chair. He spared a glance at his recent obsession and bit his lip to keep from smiling. His Professor seemed to be nearing the same state of catatonia that Harry was currently trapped in. Arms folded across his chest and staring at the watch on his exposed wrist, apparently watching the seconds tick by. He was, however, listening as he nodded when Pomfrey requested his opinion on a matter.

After another five minutes of silence in which Dr. Andrews penned a few comments into a folder (a fountain pen this time) the door opened and the nurse that had examined harry came in, gave him a brief smile and placed a file on the desk. Nervousness bloomed fresh in his chest as he stared at the innocuous manila file. The papers in Dr. Andrews's hand were given up in favour of this new information and he slid the folder towards him, flipping over the front and scanning through the pages. There was a pensive silence, much different to the one experienced a few minutes ago. Dr. Andrews gave a little cough.

"Right." It wasn't a positive 'right' in fact it was a 'right' said in just the right tone as to suck the breath from everyone in the room. A 'right' said in that way couldn't be followed with good news. Dr. Andrews coughed again.

"It seems that the levels of cancer in your blood stream have increased. And from the results of the scan it looks as though it's manifesting itself as a number of small tumours. One in your right lung, "He flipped over another piece of paper, "One close to your heart. And one it appears has attached itself to the nasopharangeal gland. Err...that's in your brain." He looked up at Harry, a deeply concerned look etched onto his face. "I'm so sorry."

But Harry couldn't hear him. Everything had gone white and there was a harsh buzzing in his ears and suddenly no matter how hard he breathed he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat and leaned forwards in his chair, arms on his knees, head on his arms. He could feel the hot tears washing from his eyes and falling against the cold lenses of his glasses that had been pushed at a funny angle against his nose.

And there was that hand again, resting against his back, so shockingly warm against his cold skin, felt even through the layers. And it anchored him, brought everything into focus a little until he could hear voices calling his name. He was pulled back into a sitting position and a glass of water held to his lips which he drank gratefully, the cold doing a little to pull him around.

"Harry?" Professor McGonagal had left her chair and was knelt in front of him, her hands clasping his where they were left trembling in his lap. The way she looked at him brought the full terror home, and he was crying now, not the hysterical tears like when he had first found out, but the more desperate hot wash of tears that tumbled down his cheeks to drip in regular interval from his chin while his gaze shifted mutely round the office.

"I'm cold." And by God he was. Not even a dementor could compare to the aching numbness that echoed through his chest. There was the noise of cloth sliding over itself and then black warmth was draped around his shoulders, an arm reaching around him so that the cloak could be pulled around his shivering body. He shifted and folded his arms high around his chest, heart beating wildly against them.

"I think he's going into shock." That was Snape, talking softly despite the panic and tucking the cloak a little tighter around Harry's small body.

"I've already called for a nurse." Dr. Andrews came around from his desk after putting what looked a lot like a telephone back in it's cradle. "I think it will be best if he could go somewhere to calm down a little while, Minerva, would you go with him? I need to speak with Poppy and Severus." She nodded and stood as the others helped Harry to his feet, the cloak falling it's length and dragging slightly on the floor as he took a step forward. It was at that moment that a nurse arrived who took him from Snape's careful hands and led him away. The look he gave the man as he walked through the door was nothing short of heart breaking.

Snape came up to the infirmary that night to administer to Harry as he was still far too weak and shaky to contemplate moving. He lay passive while his Professor pulled his arm out from beneath the blankets, working quickly, as he couldn't allow the potion to cool before it was injected. The push of foreign warmth into his body took longer this time due to the increased dose he was having to take now, in order to try and combat his disease with more ferocity. This in turn meant that he was going to end up feeling worse as a result, the drugs Madam Pomfrey had laid out on the bedside table were twice what he would normally take.

"How are you feeling now?" his voice was so soft that Harry barely heard.

"Better." Was his response to everyone who had asked. He couldn't explain why his reaction was so much different this time than when he first found out. Maybe it was because of the initial shock, the chance of denial or something. Maybe it was because this time he already knew he was sick, had maybe fooled himself into believing he might be okay, and then having the floor ripped out from beneath him again.

He heard the soft scrape of a chair being brought up beside his bed.

"If I asked something of you Harry, would you do it?" it was an unexpected comment to say the least but no more so than Snape addressing him by his first name. He didn't know what to say in the face of such a request. Snape, it seemed, did not need to wait for an answer.

"I want you keep your spirits up. No matter how hard this gets you have got to keep smiling. That's the key to all this. Once you enter into this melancholy it's just one long downwards spiral." He looked away towards the window where the night was black outside, the sun having set a while ago. His shoulder length hair covered his face but couldn't hide the way his shoulders sagged, the way his hands played with each other. That feeling came back to Harry, Snape seemed to know a lot about this procedure.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

His throat was still a little sore from crying and as such his voice was a little scratchy, but Snape heard him and turned back to face him. And now there was emotion in his eyes, pain, sadness, regret.

"It's funny how a condition so rare can strike down so many people in one group." Harry got the awful impression that he knew where this was going. "My family have a history of cancer. Somewhere back along the lines a great grandfather of some sort married a muggle born witch who introduced it into the family. Dr. Andrews explained to you how cancer is different for wizards, for one it's much rarer, it's harder to treat. Purebloods don't get it. It's why families like the Malfoys still survive today." He shifted in his seat, arms folded in a way so that he could trace the line of his jaw with his knuckles. He glanced at the figure in the bed, quite unsure as to why he was telling him this.

"It destroyed my family. At least one person in every generation has been subjected to its torment for the past five hundred years. It's like a curse. My mother had died in childbirth, leaving my father to bring up my sister, my brother and my self. He contracted cancer whilst he was in Russia and died out there. I was angry because if he had been here he could have received better treatments than the ones available on the continent.'

"I studied Potions and I was two years into my mastership when I found out that my brother had been struck down. I felt even more helpless because I was so close to becoming competent enough to help him, needless to say he died.'

He breathed in deeply and sighed, brow pulled together in a pained frown. "But it was my sister's death that hurt the most. From the beginning she had resigned herself to death. I could help her, I knew I could. And I did every day to her what I do for you, but still she wallowed in self-pity, almost as if she were waiting for death. Embracing it almost, she was caught in the trap and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't pull her out. And it broke my heart because she wouldn't even try."

His last words were barely spoken, just a quiet emotional whisper that bore so much pain and anguish. All was silent, Harry watching Snape who stared at his knotted hands. Harry could feel the emotions rising, the sickness at the thought of ever finding himself in that man's situation where everything fell apart, everybody you loved died and being almost powerless to stop it. A brief flicker of dread that passed through his mind made him wonder if that was the reason his professor had joined Voldemort, had he been so desperate to save the lives of his family that he would be willing to sacrifice his own.

And with that thought came the realisation that he had been wrong all along. Every preconception he'd had about Snape came crashing down around his ears. The way he acted, the coldness, the hate, every spiteful mannerism was his protection. Why let people close if they were just going to leave again? Harry had learnt that too, don't be friendly to people, Dudley will just scare them away. A little different he knew but he could see it now. And in his sudden rush of empathy he sat up and reached out, placing his hand on Snapes in a gesture he hoped the man would see as understanding, not pity.

Snape looked down at Harry's hand on his, the pained expression on his face clearing to make way for confusion. Smaller, tanned and utterly foreign to a man who hadn't known a kind touch for too many years to count. He turned his hands and allowed himself to hold it gently in his, as though too much pressure and Harry would pull away. He ran a thumb lightly across the back of it, tracing a faint scar just visible in the dim infirmary. No doubt gained playing quidditch.

He sighed heavily, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. With Harry's hand still held in his hand he stood, placing the boy's hand back on the bed. He took a second in composing himself, kicking himself that he had let his guard down, for a student to see no less. He lifted his eyes to see Harry staring back at him with such innocence in his eyes it made him feel guilty for having shared his tortured past. Some of it anyway.

"Just keep smiling."

With nothing more to add he left.


	5. Chapter 5

After that Harry found Snape much more approachable and had on a few occassions managed to hold a conversation with the man on a subject other than potions or the weather. It had been Snape who had protested on behalf of Harry to be allowed to stay in Gryffindor tower when the students returned. He argued that there was no point in having brought Harry here for his treatment only to segregate him from his peers. Harry had maintained that having his friends around would keep him 'smiling'.

It had been Snape who had taken it upon himself to sends owls to Ron and Hermione outlining the changes when Harry had been to ill to move from his bed.

It had been Snape who had gone with him when he went flying for the last time, keeping silent vigil from the ground as Harry took his last lap. He had been feeling steadily worse over the past few days and he had asked Dr. Andrews if it was likely to persist. In response to his reply Harry had decided to take his Firebolt out as McGonagal had told him he would have to be taken from the team.

And it had been Snape that had stayed with him that night. When it felt like his entire body was falling apart, when every movement sent shocks down his spine. When the headache grew worse and splintered through his nerves with each passing second. When Harry had cried at the realisation that he didn't need any scans to know that the tumour was growing. But nothing could stop his horror when he began to bleed. He had never had a nosebleed in his life and what distressed him the most was the knowledge of its cause. It had been Snape who had held him, had let the scared boy bury his face into the soft black shirt and cry out his pain, who rubbed his hands across his back and whispered reassurances to him.

And when he'd woken the following morning twisted in the blankets, feeling as though a fleet of lorries had run over him and then reversed, he saw Snape, arms folded beneath his head as he slept on the side of Harry's bed. And it was for Snape that a strange feeling constricted his chest, one which he knew instantly. And he smiled.

Harry groaned and paced the length of his room again, hand sbraced against his back as he leaned back into them. The potion might be working to save his life but it caused the most abysmal cramps and aches. He rubbed desperatly at it, twisting and turning to flex the stiff muscles. Madam Pomfrey had given him some cream and rubbed it into his back for him earlier but it had come back like a bad movie sequel. And it annoyed him more than anything cause he couldn't lie down.

He huffed and checked his watch, he'd go down in another ten minutes. He continued his pacing, ears pricking when they heard a soft noise in the bathroom. Fuck it, he'd go down now. He couldn't be sure that the house elf next door wasn't Dobby, and as much as he loved the creature he just wasn't in the mood right now. He closed the door quietly behind him on the way out and began his slow descent into the pits of the castle, smiling to himself at the thought that he must look a lot like a pregnant woman in the way he was holding his back as he walked.

He reached his treatment room well before he usually did but was admitted none the less. He moved the pillow further down the bed so that it was supporting his back as he lay down, feet propped on the edge of the bed. He let out a quiet sigh at the simple pleasure wondering idly if he could be bothered to go the kitchens and get an ice pack after he was finished here.

"Sit up." No hello, how are you. Harry grimaced a little as he obeyed, placing the pillow against the wall so he could lean back into it. "What's wrong?"

Harry looked up from watching the passage of the dark purple through the small tube, mentally tracking it's way to his heart and looked at Snape. "Just my back." He shrugged, indicating its unimportance.

Snape finished up dropping the syringe on the metal tray and making a clatter about it. "Lower back?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, a little wary, especially when Snape got that look on his face. The look that implied he was doing some mental reading very quickly, much like Hermione did when she knew she had read the answer to a question in one of the many books she'd purged from the library.

"Step down." His teacher backed away, motioning with his hand to follow. Harry followed, growing a little more nervous with every step. "Stand over here." He pointed at the wall. Harry gave him a sceptical look but only received a 'do as I say' in return. He stood facing the wall, feeling rather stupid. "Closer, so your feet are touching." Harry shuffled closer, nearly overbalancing as his nose was close to brushing the stone. "Better."

A darkness descended around him and warmth spread along his back. Snape was standing directly behind him, breath drifting hotly across the back of his neck and Harry couldn't deny the shiver of desire that ran the length of his spine. A hand rested on his shoulder, moving a little as Snape stepped to Harry's side. "Turn to face me." Harry did as he was told, finally seeing where this was going. He felt a blush rise up his neck, threatening to cover his face when Snape slid his arms under Harry's, hands splaying out against his shoulders. Harry mimicked his actions, biting back a moan at the feel of lithe muscle shifting under his hands as he held himself steady. "Ready?" Harry nodded, letting out a pained gasp as Snape stepped back around, twisting Harry's body as he went. There was a loud sound of cracking and Harry actually let out a little yelp that he hoped could be put down to pain rather than surprise. He heaved a sigh of relief as the pain lessened almost instantly.

"It's one of the side effects. The potion can lead to a build up of carbon dioxide in your system, usually it is released through exhalation but sometimes it can build up in larger pockets of synaptic fluid. That would be the pain in your back." Snape explained, holding Harry steady as he righted himself from his awkward position against the wall. Harry had barely heard him through the haze obscuring his senses, he could still smell the lingering scent, still feel the warmth fading from his fingertips. He let out a shaky breath.

"Harry. Are you okay?"

Harry gave him a brief flustered smile, hoping that Snape wouldn't realise the red stained cheeks for what they were. "Thanks Sir, that's much better." He rubbed his back for effect.

"It's good to know I'm of some use." He gave harry a quirky smile that went straight to areas it should not. Harry lowered his gaze again, wishing with all his might that the redness in his cheeks would go away.

"Are you sure you're fine?"

Harry nodded and looked up, the bright light making his dilated eyes hurt. "Just a little light headed." A hand was placed against his neck, thumb resting on the smooth line of his jaw, Harry fought down the overwhelming need to lean into the touch.

"Do you need to sit down?"

Harry grinned, feeling suddenly out of place. "No, I should go up to the infirmary before this kicks in, don't want to collapse on the stairs do I?" he gave a little laugh.

"Would you like me to see you up?" Snape asked, a genuine expression on his face.

"No! No... I'll be fine. I'll just go now." Harry kicked himself for his odd behaviour and backed towards the door, noticing the slightly amused look on his teacher's face. "Night Sir."

"Good night Harry."

Harry heaved a dramatic sigh when he was halfway down the corridor, thanking the powers that be that he could at least control his hormones that much. But even thinking back on it he was testing himself, just remembering the feel of that firm body warm beneath the soft black cotton was enough to make his heart race. At least he'd definitely figured out his feelings for his potions master, there was nothing more distracting when he lay in bed at night wondering. Was it just hero worship gone awry, was what he felt just abstract gratitude. Did he really like men?, no...well not really. He didn't think of any of the others like that, in fact he felt sick thinking of Ron or Seamus Or Dean in that way. No,... it was just him, just Severus. Better stop thinking about it or Pomfrey would think there was something wrong with him. All the same, he couldn't help but grin stupidly all the way up to the infirmary.

Harry stood on the front steps watching as the carriages pulled up to the school, faces becoming recognisable as they came closer. Ron and Hermione jumped down from one of the first to arrive and hurried up the steps to engulf him in a hug that he gave back as good as he got.

"Oh, I was so worried when I got Professor Snapes letter. How are you?" Hermione kept her voice low and looked around in a shifty manner at others that were filtering past and heading for the great hall. He motioned with his head that they should follow the stream and continued with an equally low voice.

"Not too great to tell the truth. They've had to up my dose so I feel even worse now. It's just been a nightmare these past few days. But I'm so glad you guys are here now. Now I won't be so bored and you can keep me entertained!" he added lightly.

"So what are you going to tell people then?" Ron asked in a stage whisper, which drew a couple stares. Harry hoped they just thought that the trio were planning their next adventure.

They had made it to the entrance of the great hall and Harry pulled them aside.

"I'm not sure. To be honest I'd thought someone would have leaked it to the papers by now, someone from the hospital I mean, but I think I'd like to keep it quite for a while and see how things go. Okay?" he must have looked a little panicked because they both nodded furiously. "Well then, we'd better get a seat."

The welcoming feast was as splendid as any other Harry had attended, he was just a little sad this time that the thought of eating made him feel sick, they'd clapped and cheered when the first year were sorted, no longer any boo's aimed at the Slytherin table whose numbers had fallen rapidly since last year. He'd enjoyed listening to the others talk about their summers, all the magic they'd been doing since they were legal now. That fact harry had completely forgotten, in fact his birthday as a whole had been missed in the whirlwind experience.

Talk carried on up to the common room where the they all set about making the room theirs for the final time, posters went up, books on shelves, odd little ornaments and family photos placed on the bed side tables.

"My Nan actually bought me a broom for my birthday," Neville enthused as he pinned up a poster of a wizard band. "But I didn't really have much of a chance to fly it, we're surrounded by muggles where we live so I couldn't really go out on it."

"Did you get the chance to fly?" Ron asked Harry.

"Yeah, but only the once." He shrugged in deference to Ron's outraged look.

"Must have been great to have the whole quidditch pitch to yourself though?" he sighed dreamily, eyes closed as though imagining.

"The Quidditch pitch? You got to stay here?" Seamus stopped unpacking to look at Harry, waiting for him to answer Dean's question.

"Err..." Harry stumbled for a quick explanation, "My family chucked me out, so Dumbledore said it would be safer for me to stay here." He held a breath.

"Cool, not your family mate, that sucks. But staying at Hogwarts, bet you had a right laugh?"

"S'not as fun as it sounds. The whole place is all empty and there's nothing to do. I got quite bored." Harry was eager to get off this subject.

"Suppose your right. I don't reckon you can get up to much with Filch or Snape stalking the corridors can you?!" Seamus gave a short laugh, Neville looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of Snape.

Harry gave a start of realisation and looked at his watch. It was eight thirty. "Oh shit!" He clambered off his bed and pulled on his robe, running out the door he could here dean shouting behind him "Where are you going? It's nearly curfew!"

Harry was woken by Ron the next morning and was given a gentle reminder that if he wanted to keep his condition a secret he should start wearing long sleeved shirts to bed. Ron had told him the others had gone down to breakfast early and hadn't seen a thing, but he should be more careful.

The first day back was hell. Harry had always thought that classes were tiring but by lunchtime he was nearly asleep. He had thus far managed to avoid questioning when he wasn't required to hand in his summer homework. The afternoon lesson was history of magic, which he did fall asleep in and neither Hermione nor Professor Binns had it in them to wake him. Seventh years had the rest of Monday afternoon off and the three of them took it as an opportunity to enjoy one of the last fine days of the year and make another trip out down to the lake where they talked more in depth about what had gone on since they had seen each other last.

Harry settled into a pattern which was much the same as any other year except this time he was always 'going to the library' in the evenings, which served well along side his excuse when he told the others that he wouldn't be on the quidditch team that year. They had all believed that Harry was taking his N.E. seriously and devoting as much time as he could to his studies. That also covered up for why he was always tired. But it didn't stop the anxious stares when he would suddenly stop, throwing out an arm to steady himself on the nearest thing when the dizziness threatened to overbalance him. It didn't explain why harry disappeared one Friday afternoon, came back and locked himself in the dormitory for most of the weekend. It didn't explain why he hardly ever ate, why he had become so pale, why some nights he went to the 'library' and didn't come back.

Soon even the most unobservant of people had begun to notice and were even asking Ron and Hermione if he was okay. And Harry had begun to dread the day when it all came out.

He didn't have long to wait.

He was already ten minutes late for his trip to the 'library', tugging his robe onto one arm, when a sudden wall of pain crashed over him. He stopped dead in his tracks near the entrance to the common room. He stumbled blindly until he came up against the cold stone wall, and that's when the dizziness started. He'd had spells of it before but never this bad. It was worse than it had ever been with Voldemort inside his head. He let his bag slip from his shoulder to the floor, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Harry?"

Dean, Seamus and Neville had just come back through the portrait and nearly walked straight into him. "Harry are you all right?"

No time for heroics and brave faces now, Harry shook his head, instantly regretting it. There a muttered 'oh my God' and then hands were on him steering him away from the wall and towards the sofa which had just been evacuated by a couple of fourth year girls. He lay down gratefully, taking the weight off his shaking legs.

"Was goin on?"

Ron and Hermione were back from the real library. Harry groaned mentally, did everyone have to witness this? He heard Hermione shriek followed by several thuds which were no doubt books hitting the floor. She ran over and dropped to his side, pushing Seamus back a little so she could see his face. She held a hand to his forehead.

"Oh my God Harry, you're freezing! Somebody get a blanket." She smoothed his hair back and glanced anxiously at Ron who was hovering at the armrest. She gave him a pointed look and told him quietly to hurry up. He left the common room at break neck speed. Hermione turned back to Harry, hand on his face. "It's alright Harry. Ron's gone to get someone."

Harry nodded feebly and swallowed thickly around a hitch in his breathing. He didn't dare open his eyes, the room was spinning enough without him having to look at it. He felt a thick blanket placed over him and Hermione's hand returned to his face, it's warmth welcome and he turned his face towards it. He desperately wished Ron had found someone.

He had. But what shocked most people was who Ron had had come back with. He'd come bursting through the entrance clutching a bag of some sort and pointing towards the sofa. Professor Snape followed a split second later, and from the state of both of them it was obvious they had run. Snape hurried to where harry lay and dropped to his knees beside Hermione.

"What happened?" He shrugged out of the black robe he habitually wore and pushed his sleeves up.

"I don't know, Ron and I had just returned and he was like this. I think the others found him" She inclined her chin to indicate Seamus, Dean and Neville who were all staring at Snape with surprise. Seamus nodded, not wanting to give Snape a reason to be angry with him.

"Yeah, he was leaning against the wall when we came in. we asked if he was okay and he said no. We got him to lie down, that's when the others came in. he looked really dizzy, and like he was in pain. What's wrong with him."

Everyone remained still, hoping that Snape would reveal Harry's torment. Instead he swore softly and pressed his hand to the side of Harry's neck, checking his pulse.

"Mr. Potter." He spoke loudly and was a little relieved when the boy's forehead creased a little. He'd heard him, at least he was lucid.

"Professor." Hermione gave a little breathless gasp and pointed to his face where a thin trail of blood had just escaped from the corner of his mouth.

Snape leapt into action, he took the bag from Ron and asked him to help him sit Harry up, hand supporting his neck. Ron gave him a puzzled frown but helped him none the less. The reason becoming apparent when he was leaning back against the sofa. Thick streams of crimson poured from Harry's nose and over his lips, curled around Snape's wrist and soaked into his shirt. It dripped from his chin to land with soft taps on his grey school jumper. A few of the girls squeaked and held their hands to their faces.

"Fucking hell." Hermione was a little shocked to hear her Professor swear but the sentiment was equally shared by all in the room. He picked up the robe he had left on the floor and used the corner to wipe across Harry's face.

"Could you roll his sleeve up." He nodded toward Harry's left arm, "And be careful." Hermione nodded while Snape reached into the bag he had brought with him and produced a small bottle of blue liquid.

"Harry?" Snape leaned forward and placed a hand to his face, blood smearing across porcelain skin, using his thumb to gently open his eyes, staring intently into them checking them. "Harry, I'm going to give you something for the pain, it's going to feel a little cold and it will make the dizziness worse for a little while, but it will help." He heard a barely audible noise that he took to be acceptance.

Snape looked down at where Hermione had carefully undone his shirtsleeve and pushed it up as far as it would go. He could practically feel the questioning glances that were shot over his head as the rest of Harry's house mates caught sight of the tube lodged firmly in the crook of his arm.

They all watched Snape as he carefully measured out a pull of the blue liquid, tapping the syringe and attaching it firmly to the catheter. After a few moments everyone could see the pained expression fade from Harry's face. There was a collective release of held breaths when Harry's eyes flickered open.

"Sir?" he whispered thickly, breaths still coming in uneven gasps.

"Don't move." Snape replied softly, detaching the syringe from Harry's arm and placing it carefully on the low table in front of the fire. He placed his fingers against Harry's neck again, feeling for the weakened pulse. He checked Harry's eyes again and looked a little satisfied. He pulled the blanket that had been fetched further up around his shoulders.

"Care to tell me what happened?"

Harry looked at him with unsteady eyes, breathing slower now that the pain was subsiding. He pulled together a frown and shook his head a little, grimacing when his head started to feel as though it had left the room while his body remained in it. He groaned in a heart-felt way and let his head fall back against the back of the sofa so that he was staring up at the ceiling. Now this ceiling was the bad boy of all ceilings, it just wouldn't stay still no matter how hard Harry wished it would. He could feel that burning desperation building in his chest again and closed his eyes against the threat of tears, all the time his mind was screaming, why? Why me? Why must everything fucking happen to me?

He could feel the crack of dry blood as his lips parted, tongue wetting dry lips and clearing them of bitter copper. He felt a hand take his, he didn't know who's it was but he could tell it wasn't Snape. He still had the feel of his Professor's branded into his skin, could still recall the thrill than ran the length of his spine as a thumb ran across the back. No, it wasn't Snape. He would have felt it.

"Harry?" Ah. It was Hermione. He didn't answer, he was too busy fighting the battle within him. Trying so hard, so desperately to find that spark of happy memory that could remind him of a reason to smile. It was like trying to think of something in order to produce a Patronus whilst having a dementor breathe down your neck. Dimly he was aware of Snape asking the others to leave, to go up and wait in their dormitories until he was finished. The others followed without question, whatever Snape wanted, Snape got.

Harry pressed his eyes just as the wave of Dizziness passed over him, he'd been told it would get worse but he hardly felt as though he was even in the slightest bit of control of his body. The light that seeped through his eyelids caused shapes to dance across his vision, not helping in the slightest. And he tipped forward in the hope of pressing his hands to his eyes to stop them. A pair of hands caught him, holding him by the shoulders before his slipped from the couch altogether.

"I'm taking him up to the infirmary." Snape said quietly, disturbing the now eerie cold that had seeped into the Gryffindor common room, "Mr Weasley, could you be so kind as to follow with my things?" Ron nodded dumbly as he watched Snape carefully arrange the soft blanket around the boy and pull him towards him.

Harry felt that under different circumstances, when he didn't have blood drying on his clothes, when he wasn't dizzy enough to pass out, that the slide of hot skin on the back of his neck as Snape pulled him towards him would have been the most blissful moment of his life. As it were he could not enjoy the feeling of strength and security and he was lifted effortlessly from the couch and held against the firm warm body. He couldn't pay due attention to the man's innate majesty as the portrait opened to his spoken command. Instead all he could feel was the blackness pressing from all sides, and he struggled so hard to fight it off, but he was so tired and in so much pain. Why shouldn't he sleep for a while?


	6. Chapter 6

He'd woken two days later with a blinding headache groping around on the bedside table for his glasses. They were pressed into his hand and he put them on, eyes focusing immediately on the multitude of gifts and flowers that littered every surface around his bed. Of course, it was a Hogsmead weekend.

He pushed himself further up the bed and turned his attention to the large black shape that blocked a fair share of light coming through the window. He smiled weakly at his Potions Professor who stood over him with a foreboding look on his tired face.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

Harry lay back against the pillows again, his head at a better angle to see the room. He let his smile fade, Snape's voice matched his look. "Sorry." He mumbled, not really sure what he was apologising for. Snape folded his arms a little tighter across his chest, eyes flickering to the doorway and back.

"I'm just going to come out and say it Potter. Dr. Andrews's wants you back at St. Mungo's, he thinks you'll fare better there. Once he's been notified that you're awake he'll be by with the transfer papers."

Harry stared at the man in shock. They wanted him to leave Hogwarts, wanted him to leave the only home he'd ever had so that he could die in some impersonal clinical hole where he couldn't see his friends?! He sat back up a confused and shocked look written plainly on his face.

"But I don't want to go." He blurted out, forgetting that he hadn't used his voice for a couple of days and as such it wasn't quite ready for the force of emotion. "They can't make me can they?"

"Unfortunately Mr. Potter we very rarely get what we want in life. They seem to thinks it's for the best." Snape didn't look as though he agreed and Harry got the faint impression that the man had argued his case, of which he was eternally grateful.

"But if I don't sign the papers they can't take me can they?"

"You're not the one who signs the papers Mr, Potter, you are under the legal protection of the headmaster, he is the one who is responsible for you, and he agrees that Hogwarts may not be the best place for you to continue your treatment. You need twenty-four hour care." He said the last softly as he watched tears spring into the boy's eyes.

"But I don't want to go." He sounded so very small, so very injured and Snape's heart went out to him.

"You'll have to as long as your treatment continues."

"Then I'll stop." There was an air of resentment to that statement and Snape waited until Harry was looking at him before he questioned his actions.

"There won't be any point in me going to St. Mungo's if I'm not undergoing treatment. And it's my choice if I do or not, no one can make me." He sounded determined and angry.

"And you'll die." There was no point in trying to be gentle. Harry knew the stakes.

"I don't care." He was being petulant now and he knew it.

"Damn it Harry!" Snape shouted, arms unfolding, "What has all this been for then? Going through Hell, taking up my time and concern only to throw it all away. Fuck Hogwarts, you can come back and retake the year but you can't do it if your dead!"

Harry looked at him in shocked hurt. Snape hadn't shouted at him in months and he'd almost forgotten how well he could do it. He snapped his mouth shut and lowered his gaze to the bed linen feeling thoroughly chastised. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

He heard the man sigh, obviously making a huge effort to compose himself. He felt an odd little movement and realised that Snape had moved to grip the side bar.

"Don't you see what's best?"

It was more a rhetorical question but Harry pondered it all the same. Was it for the best? Being packed off to a strange place without access to his friends or anything familiar to him. At St. Mungo's they wouldn't allow him to go as he pleased, he wouldn't be able to study, to go out to the lake, to laugh. He'd get bored, and boredom meant depression, and depression meant the downward spiral that Snape had talked about. And Snape, Harry wasn't entirely sure what he felt about the man, but he felt. And strongly at that. How could he get by without the man's unwavering strength, he'd come to rely on him, his stalwart protector.

Harry knew that if he went to St. Mungo's he wouldn't come back. He'd been told the chances of survival. And Harry would be damned if he were going to die in a strange place, surrounded by people whose job it was to care. No, he was going to live, and the only place he could live was here. He fisted his hands into the sterile sheets in abject misery and turned his head to face his teacher, all too aware of the glistening tracks of tears that curved over his cheeks.

"But I won't have any reason to smile." If he could get through to Snape then...

"Harry." And there was his name again, said with an edge of a plea.

"Please sir? You know I can't go there. I'll die there."

He felt his heart drop through his stomach as his Professor gave him an apologetic look and lowered his head, shaking it. Harry sucked in a shaky breath, heart beating wild and fast. Abandoning all pretence he knelt up in his bed and took hold of his Professor's shirtfront, holding fast to the soft black fabric.

"Please! Please sir? Don't send me away, you can help me, you can save me! You know you can. Please?! I don't want to go, this is my home." He felt hands close around his wrists, holding, not quite pushing him away. "Please don't let me die. You know I'll die if I go there." He heard his voice crack, choking on a sob as more tears washed down his face. "Please? I'll do anything. Please?" his knees gave way beneath him but he still kept a tight hold on Snape's shirt, feeling that if he let go the man would leave and never came back.

He felt it more than heard it. The sudden hitch in Snapes breathing felt through the death grip he had pressed against the man's chest. His eyes locked on his teacher's face, hidden by shadow cast by the long black hair. With a sudden burst of nerves he tentatively let go with one hand letting it move slowly inch by inch until the very ends of the dark curtain brushed his knuckles. Apprehension coiled within him as he allowed himself to push Snape's hair back, tucking it gently behind one ear. What he saw took his breath away. A single tear had traced its way down his teacher's cheek, curling its way along the length of his jaw leaving a glistening trail in its wake. Snape was crying.

For him.

Here was a man who had loathed him for six years, who'd tried to get him expelled on many occasions, who'd been spiteful and mean to him at every given opportunity, who'd saved his life too many times. And he was standing here with tears in his eyes, crying. It suddenly hit Harry. Snape cared, he actually cared about him. All this time Harry had thought Snape was doing this out of obligation, that the man's new persona was just another layer. But Snape actually gave a damn what happened to Harry. He bit back a sob and leaned into him, hugging him with one hand still pressed against him, the other falling to Snape's shoulder as arms surrounded him, supported him. As Harry held his face against his shoulder feeling his tears soak into the rich material and he uttered one last time.

"Please?"

"I'll try."

And he had. He'd done it, how, Harry was sure he would never find out. All he knew was that after a very tense four hour wait, during which Ron and Hermione had sat at his bedside and persuaded him into a game of exploding snap, Madam Pomfrey had come bustling in and told him that he might as well take his medication if he was going to be staying.

All three of them were overjoyed, and when Snape had come to give him the potion that night he had hugged in right there in front of his friends, who'd looked at Harry as though he might need to go to St. Mungo's after all.

Walking into the great hall for breakfast the following morning proved to be a nerve-wracking ordeal. True to Hogwarts fashion, news had travelled fast about Harry's visit to the hospital wing. And as he walked to his usual space at Gryffindor table he could feel every pair of eyes that followed him. Some of the others moved up to allow him, Ron and Hermione to sit down. They all looked at him and gave him very tight smiles and Harry smiled back, thanking them for the cards and gifts that they had brought for him.

"So...what's wrong then?" Seamus had asked halfway through breakfast when the furtive glances were beginning to wear a little on Harry' nerves. He got the feeling that maybe Seamus had been elected to forward the question as suddenly everybody's attention was on him. There was no point in denying anything now and so with a piece of sausage halfway to his mouth he replied casually.

"I've got cancer."

It was a sentence that quieted the great hall, as talk hadn't increased much in the hope of over hearing something of Harry's conversation.

"Wh..What?" Seamus sputtered, picking up the fork that he'd just dropped on the floor. Harry could practically hear the ears straining to listen and he could feel the weight of a particular stare coming from the head table.

"Cancer." He said again, having finished his mouthful of sausage, and he was suddenly glad that both Ron and Hermione had carried on eating like him, otherwise he wasn't sure how he would take the overbearing centre of attention he'd become. "In my blood. It's what this is for." He said, pulling up his sleeve and showing the others. Those who'd been present in the common room that night nodded with dawning comprehension.

"So..it's...serious?" Seamus again, fork still clutched tightly in one hand.

Harry dropped his gaze to where he swirled his knife around in the sauce left from the beans he'd just eaten. He said in a voice suddenly weighted down with so many mixed emotions, "Yeah, you could say that." And it was clear from his tone what he meant.

It was a few shocked seconds after his statement that every girl at the Gryffindor table burst into tears, joined by quite a few from other houses as well, even some of the guys looked a little tearful but were holding back for the sake of masculine pride. Harry looked about himself nervously, he really hadn't wanted to make such a fuss, and he wasn't dead yet!

He felt a hand on his knee and looked at Hermione who was still trying to pretend that it was a normal breakfast on a normal day, except that when she gave him a reassuring smile he noticed that her eyes were slightly red. He took his eyes from her and looked directly across the room, and as the fates would have it, he locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. And instead of the glee he'd expected to see in the eyes of a boy who'd just found out his sworn enemy was dying, he found shock and disbelief. It seemed even Malfoy had a heart.

Lessons were a little strange after that, the teachers treated him the same having found out about his condition in the holidays. No, it was the students that were beginning to annoy him, they kept staring at him as though he were going to drop dead at any moment. He could hardly walk down the corridor without someone looking at him and shaking their head sadly. It had got so bad that even Snape had taken thirty points from Slytherin for inattentiveness in his lessons.

But he'd noticed now, whether it was good or not, that his workload had lessened quite a bit. He was no longer expected to take active roles in lesson and was allowed to get away making notes if he chose to do so. Although more often than not he chose practical work, although in charms he was not allowed to have spells cast at him as the sudden flux of magic could disrupt a person's magical signature. And in Harry's case that could be lethal considering the amount of drugs he had racing around his body.

One lesson he was definitely improving in was Potions. He'd taken it upon himself to prove to the man that his help in letting him remain at Hogwarts would not go wasted. It was that and his new-found respect for the art and it's teacher that made him stay up at night reading all the books he'd always cast aside before. He was also quite sure that his improved marks were down to him as Snape wouldn't ever become biased in his favour when it came to potions, even if he was dying.

As it was though he couldn't help the little squeal of delight when his paper came back Monday morning with a mark much higher than Malfoys and only two points off Hermione's customary score.

"If I had known that the threat of death would make you pay attention in my lessons I would have done it more often." Snape remarked lightly as Harry came in and closed the door behind him.

"Like you've never thought of it before!" A year ago and that comment would have seen Harry on the outside of a locked door and in all probability missing some limbs.

"No. Can't say I haven't." Snape turned in his seat and motioned Harry over, who went with his hand held out as was routine. He liked these days when Snape was in a good mood. Because then it was so easy to place the teacher and the man in areas so far away from each other. He could never hide the slight blush that crept over his face when Snape touched him and always blamed it on the heat of the small room. Upon many nights reflection Harry had come to the realisation that he enjoyed the man's touch. He could remember every split second when he had done so. Just think about him made Harry's chest feel tight, unknown feelings and adrenaline curling deep in his stomach. It was all he could do to sleep at night because his thoughts were permanently on his Potions Master, and it hurt. Because he knew it could never happen

But it was moments like this, when he'd actually smiled at him, when he held his hand so gently. He was lost. It would be so easy to just lean down and press his lips against his, to run his fingers through his hair, to hold himself against that firm body. But no, Snape had dropped his hand and turned back to his work. Harry made his way to the bed and hoisted himself up onto it feeling a sudden melancholy settle over him.

Would he ever know happiness with another person? Sure, he had his friends and he loved doing things with them but he wanted someone to hold him, to love him, create a world where the two of them could live. Ron had asked him a couple of weeks ago whether he still had feelings for Cho, and if he did then maybe he should make his move considering. Harry had told him that she didn't deserve to have two boyfriends die on her, he didn't want to tell Ron that he didn't like her in that way any more, hadn't for a long time. His affections had moved on to the dark side, in every way possible. He just couldn't have picked a worse person to feel for. Snape was his teacher, he was a Slytherin, he was a man! Harry had never thought of the possibility of him being gay, in fact he'd never thought about it period. He'd never discussed it with anyone, the closest they all came to any kind of talk about romance was when Ron had commented on an article he'd seen in the paper about a young witch marrying an old man. Hermione had declared that nothing matters so long as they loved each other. He'd liked her attitude, why should it matter so long as people cared for each other?

He was lifted from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He snapped his head up and locked his eyes with Snape who was staring at him concern and confusion.

"Are you alright."

Not quite trusting his voice while he could still feel the all-encompassing heat of that hand weighing so heavily on his shoulder, he nodded. The hand slipped from his shoulder down his arm where it cupped his arm at the elbow, shifting the sleeve a little higher.

"You sure? You seem a little...distracted." Harry nodded again and then grimaced at the nauseating feel of warmth leaking into him.

He waited for Snape to turn away so that he could roll his sleeve down. But he didn't move, Harry stared dumbly as his shirt was rearranged for him and buttoned. Snape's hand dropped to rest close to Harry's leg.

"Harry?" and God did he hate it when Snape said his name like that. It both enflamed him and shot him down in the space of a second.

"Sorry sir. I'm just little tired is all." He shifted, fighting the urge to brush his leg against Snape's arm.

"If you were tired you'd have said that. There's something else isn't there?" harry shook his head and attempted to pull together a confused expression as though he had no idea what Snape was on about.

"Harry. If there's something wrong you need to tell me."

"There's nothing wrong." Harry tried to sound sure of himself. And, God, why did the man have to touch him? Place his hand on his shoulder, thumb just brushing the skin above his collar? And this time Harry couldn't help but move towards it's warmth.

"Harry." Snape didn't believe him. He was just about to shake his head again when sure fingers caught his chin and lifted his face. Harry felt a thrill rush through him as those eyes pierced his and he got the distinct impression that Snape was trying to read his mind. He flinched against the man's constraint but he was held fast so instead he closed his eyes.

"Haven't you ever thought." He blurted out, hoping to distract Snape "You know, about the things you'd like to do. Before you die?"

The hands fell away and he opened his eyes. Snape still stood before him with his arms folded and a sympathetic look on his face.

"The inevitable wish list." He mused. He gave a funny sort of sigh and then sat himself down on the bed next to Harry. Harry stared resolutely at his trainers, feeling as though his entire right side had been set alight.

"So what's on it then?" harry flashed him a puzzled look. "The wish list." Snape elaborated.

"Oh." Harry thought quickly, "Well the usual, play quidditch for England, become an actor, you know the sort. I wouldn't mind going to a nightclub but I'm not old enough and Dumbledore would never let me go. Umm...I'd like to graduate. I'd like to eat an entire chocolate cake. I'd like to go to a theme park, they're supposed to be really good, Hermione's been and she said it was great. I'd like to graffiti one of the walls just to annoy Filch." He smiled at the image, and surprisingly so did Snape. "And I like to... you know." He lowered his head to resume staring at his feet.

"I see." Snape sounded uncharacteristically depressed, as though realising just how innocent his young charge was. "Well you could solve that."

Harry could feel the blush alighting his face. There was no way he was having this conversation with Snape. He made a non-committal noise.

"Surely a boy your age would have your eye on someone?" he shifted uncomfortably.

"Kinda." He mumbled. "But I doubt they like me in that way."

"Have you asked." Harry was sure that Snape would be mortified if he'd turned round and asked him then and there.

"No. And I'm not going to. He'd disown me."

"He?" Harry pressed his eyes shut, 'shit, shit, shit' he slid off the bed and moved towards the door but was stopped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Snape looked suddenly quite apologetic. "I thought that...well... what about Miss Chang? I thought you and her..."

Harry shook his head a little too quickly, dislodging his Professor s hand from his arm. What must he think of him now? Dumbledore's little golden boy was a fag. At least he thought he was. It wasn't as if he lusted after every boy in the school, in fact thinking of them now made him feel a little queasy. Were you gay if you only fancied one man?

"Oh." For once Snape seemed at a loss for what to say.

"Is it okay if I go now sir? I am feeling a little tired now." Snape nodded distractedly and then added when Harry had reached the door.

"I hope I haven't offended you." Harry looked back at him in wonder.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

"I'd be a little hypocritical if I said you had." He looked as though he was fighting against a smile as he ushered Harry out of the door. When Harry was securely on the outside of the door he pondered what Snape had said.

And he smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the start of the Christmas holidays and the three of them had headed into Hogsmead with the rest of the students, searching through all the shops for the perfect little presents for their friends and family. Harry had outdone himself this year, buying presents for everybody he could think of, even the Dursleys although he was sure they wouldn't probably go unopened. He'd spent ages in the bookstore looking for something for Hermione and found many books that he had to have shrunk just so he could carry them. He bought Ron a broom, the one he'd been practically drooling over as they'd walked past the window and feeling in a cheeky mood he'd bought a silver photo frame for Snape, engraved into it 'annoying you from beyond the grave'. Thoroughly intending to find a picture of himself when he got back to the castle to put into it.

The holiday was only slightly marred by his required presence at the hospital a few days before Christmas where he underwent the usual tests. The news being much better than the last time. It seemed that the treatment was having some effect. The levels, although still high, had stopped increasing. With this new information he set off back to Hogwarts feeling very light at heart.

He helped out decorating the common room and the great hall, occasionally lifting Professor Flitwick onto his shoulders so that he could reach something. There was a definite holiday feel in the air. Dumbledore roamed the halls passing out sugared sweets to anybody who had pockets and even the quietest of students could be heard joining in with carols when the headmaster called for impromptu concerts. It was during these times when they were all gathered around the giant Christmas tree at the top of the hall, the many coloured lights playing on the faces of those around it. When everyone was smiling as they sang both muggle and wizard songs that Harry would let his gaze wonder and fix on Snape, who sat a little way off in an effort to distance himself from the cheer of the season. But there was nothing to disguise the look of contentment on the man's face. Then Snape would turn and catch his eye, and instead of schooling his expression he would smile and motion to Harry that he should immerse himself in the activities their headmaster had set out for him. Hermione would comment later that they had all seen a different Snape that Christmas, and that maybe she kind of liked him.

Christmas day came and went with all its usual splendour. They all opened their presents in their pyjamas at the foot of the common room tree, Ron had declared that Harry had spent way too much on him but Harry could see in his eyes that he was pleased with his gift. They had taken it out for a short while that morning, but not for long as it had started snowing thickly. Christmas dinner was just as relaxed as it had been in the summer, one large table was set in the middle of the hall and students were free to move around as they wished, more presents were exchanged by those who lived in different houses and Harry rather shyly pushed his across the table to Snape.

He'd opened it with a rather curious McGonagal and Dumbledore peering over his shoulder as they had finished opening theirs and were looking to see what the boy who lived could have possibly bought the formidable Potions Master for Christmas. It was the first time that anybody had heard Snape laugh, finger tracing over the engraving as the picture of Harry continued to jump in and out of the picture frame, stopping every now and then, hands on knees to catch his breath back.

They had all spent the afternoon outside in the snow, staff and students alike, engaged in a competition to build a snowman without magic. Harry had insisted on having Snape and Flitwick on their team who both cheated terribly. The ensuing argument broke out into a snowball fight, the teams splitting into two factions. Turns out that Flitwick was quite good at cheating at that too. It was the only time Harry could think of that both Slytherin and Gryffindor had ever fought on the same team, and actually enjoyed himself. There was a short time when Harry found himself sitting next to Draco Malfoy, their backs pressed to the snow wall that Professor vector and Hermione had erected. He'd passed Harry a couple of the balls he'd just made and motioned Harry over the top, both shouting as they were bombarded by snow bombs.

When Harry had gone down to the dungeons that evening he was quite thoroughly worn out and still had a bit of a pink flush to his cheeks from laughing too much. He noticed that Snape seemed a little off that night, not bad, just a bit quiet. He'd made Harry wait after he'd finished while he went to his office quickly, returning not five minutes later with a small wooden box that he presented to Harry. He'd taken it with a smile and gently opened it. There curling in a nest of blue satin was a chain of the finest silver he'd ever seen, it was so fine it felt almost like silk. And in its midst was a small pendant depicting St. Michael, Snape turned it in his hand so that he could see the etched writing on the back, 'Keep Smiling.'

He had carefully placed it around his neck, the cool charm resting against the centre of his chest as he stared at it fondly. He'd never worn jewellery before. He fingered it idly as he thanked Snape for his kindness, as expected he had waved it off but Harry was sure that he'd seen a hint of a blush grace his cheeks. Emboldened by festive cheer and the smuggled butterbeer Ron had got hold of Harry raised himself onto his toes and pressed a kiss to Snape's cheek. He thanked him again for the gift and excused himself, grinning like a mad man all the way up to Gryffindor tower, tucking the chain into his shirt before he walked through. This was one thing he wanted to keep for himself.

.

That wasn't the only surprise he'd had that holiday. It seemed that Snape had finally cracked when he waked Harry and Ron at three in the morning and quietly ushered them downstairs to one of the abandoned corridors. Harry was about to question his motives when he saw lined up along the wall several bright cans. His eyes went wide and he looked at Snape who only nodded and told him he had half an hour before Mrs. Norris went on her morning walkabout. Ron just looked as though they were both crazy and watched as Harry picked up one of the cans, bright orange, and pulled the lid off, he shook it for a couple of seconds and held it close to the wall.

With a wicked gleam in his eye Harry started to spray. He heard Ron let out a horrified gasp as the orange clashed with the old stone brickwork, but it wasn't long until he was joining in and a rather artistic slogan 'Cannons Rule' was scrawled across the wall. They'd run down to the kitchens when they had heard a far off meow. Once there he had been presented with a modest chocolate cake, and he was told that "I can't do anything about you playing for England, or get you into acting, but I will sit here and watch you eat that entire cake." It had taken him nearly an hour to eat it, with Ron giving commentary all the way through. They had been ordered back to bed and assured that they would need their rest. They both agreed as they settled down for the second time that night that there was definitely something different about Snape.

It turned out that they had needed their energy that day as a certain someone had implanted an idea into the headmaster's mind. They had eaten a hurried breakfast, told to dress in their muggle best, and then they had been chaperoned out of the castle, beyond the gates and portkeyed to England's best theme park. Harry had practically screamed with delight. Thanks to the temperature and that it was the parks opening day there were hardly any people there. He, Ron and Hermione could practically walk onto the rides without queuing, and at one point the entire group of students managed to commandeer the Nemesis rollercoaster and even managed to persuade their guards, (Vector and McGonagal) onto the ride, although Professor McGonagal had to take a long sit down afterwards and encouraged them to go on without her. Ron made himself sick by eating two sticks of candyfloss just before going on the Waltzer and swore off them for life.

After going on just about every ride twice and with the light fading fast they met up again at the entrance in time to travel back to the castle, arms laden with token of their day out. Everybody had agreed that this was the best holiday in Hogwarts history ever.

And he made sure to tell Snape that when he went down to the dungeons that night. The man had listened without interruption as Harry regaled him with the details of their day out and then quietly thanked him for suggesting it to the headmaster.

"You should have come. It was great!" he enthused, hardly wincing as a fresh needle went in. Snape just gave him a look.

"I hardly think it's my scene, do you Potter?"

"I think you're just afraid that you might have enjoyed yourself, ruin your rep." Harry pressed. Snape was silent as he cleared away. "See, you don't even have an excuse."

"I had a headache." Snape intoned softly. Harry shook his head disbelievingly.

"Whatever. But I really appreciate it, no one's ever done anything like that for me."

He surprised them both by slipping off the table and wrapping his arms securely around Snape's chest, giving him a brief hug before departing from the room.

.

The rest of the students came back and school carried on as usual. Most of the others, having seen that Harry hadn't suddenly died over the break, resumed their careful watch of his behaviour which Harry found easier to ignore as the weeks went on. Even though Harry had a lighter workload than others he could still feel the pressure mounting as every day led them closer to their end of term exams, and Harry didn't know whether to be excited about them or not. On one hand, he was so close to graduating, but on the other he was closer to the date when he would either get worse or better.

He was still dogged by the headaches and the sickness, the almost constant dizziness that more often than not required one of his classmates to hold him steady on the way to class. Several times his vision had blurred and he found himself virtually blind for a minute or so, one instance resulting in the loss of his fingertip in potions class, but Snape had packed him of to the infirmary with Ron in tow to keep an eye on him. But other than that he felt fine, his monthly tests came back positive, his cancer levels were dropping slowly but surely, meaning that if he kept up with his treatment his chances of going into remission were higher than average.

But despite all this he still felt a wave of trepidation every time he thought about the future. He had tried to talk to Snape about this but the man had been a little off for the past couple of months, almost as if he were reverting back to his usual self, issuing more detentions than ever and docking points for any kind of infringement. Harry had asked him every day if there was anything wrong? Was he feeling okay? Had Harry done anything to annoy him? But each time the man looked at him sombrely and shook his head, his hand waving him through the door as he opened it.

But nothing worried Harry more than when they had been making notes whilst Snape lectured, the class silent as Snape's voice washed over them, quills scratching against fresh parchment, when he stopped. It wasn't for long and Harry was sure that he was the only one who had looked up, the only one who had seen the brief moment of pain flash across their teacher's face. The way his hands gripped the lectern as he swayed slightly made Harry want to call out, to ask him if he was well. But a suddenly as the thought had crossed his mind, Snape had shook himself and carried on with his speech, eyes flicking to meet Harry's for a brief moment to give him a pointed look. Harry continued with his notes.

Two days later they had all taken their monthly trip to the hospital and Harry had to bear the news that despite his earlier improvement his levels had increased again. His shock was predictable but not nearly as severe as it had been when he had gone to his first session. They had left without Professor Snape who had stayed behind in order to talk to Dr. Andrews, and Harry had had a less then pleasant afternoon fighting back a sudden nausea that he felt had more to do with his visit to the hospital than it had to do with his cancer. That didn't stop him in joining the others in a game of British Bulldog down on the lawns near the quidditch pitch. That was until Professor McGonagal had come striding out across the grass and shooed them back inside telling them that the game had been banned for a reason and not sparing any sympathy for Neville whom was rubbing a particularly sprained wrist.

Harry's thoughts had stayed with Snape the whole day and he found himself unable to concentrate on his charms essay no matter how hard he tried. Dinner was worse as for the first time in years Snape was absent, leaving Harry to swirl his fork through his mashed potato in an idle manner. Even quidditch practice, where Harry sat in the bleachers, couldn't pull his thoughts away. Harry figured that at this rate he would either starve to death or accidentally walk in front of a bus. But he couldn't help the way his blood chilled slightly. What was wrong with him? Was he just stressed because it was coming to the end of term was there something wrong with one of the Slytherins? Had Harry done something?

"For God's sake Harry, snap out of it!"

Harry stopped rinsing his hair and looked at Ron who was in the process of pouring shampoo onto his own mess of hair.

"You've been like it all day. What's wrong?"

Harry felt a little self-conscious that Ron had been watching him, and even now he was aware of the stares from the other guys in his year. He was suddenly grateful for the high walls in the shower unit.

"I'm Just thinking." He replied in a monotone and finished his rinse, snapping the towel from the rail and wrapping it about his waist.

"Must be serious, you've been distant for days." Ron joined Harry at the sinks where they both combed out their wet hair.

"Yeah well, I think it might be." He said it softly so that the others wouldn't hear. Ron gave him a concerned look. "Nothing to do with me. Don't worry, it's just something playing on my nerves."

"Like what?"

"Like what I'm gonna do when I leave." He lied, "I'll have to stay here for the short term until I finish the treatment, "or die, but he didn't add that more for Ron's sake than his own, "But other than that I don't know what I'm doing. I'll figure something out though. Don't worry."

He said the last quite forcefully as it looked as though Ron was about to launch into all the possibilities of what he could do after graduation, and Harry really didn't want to here all about auror training right now.

"I like your chain Harry. Where d'ya get it?" Neville had come over, towelling off his hair. Harry looked at him and frowned, then realised that everyone's attention was focused firmly on his chest. Where his pendant lay against the wet skin. He'd forgotten to take it off, he'd been so distracted it hadn't occurred to him to lay it beside his glasses, cover them up with his shirt. His hand lifted to it automatically, like it did in the night when he couldn't sleep and the feel of silver warm against his fingers had calmed him a little.

"I got it for Christmas." He mumbled, only to aware that he was beginning to blush, he could hopefully blame it on the heat of the room.

"Who gave it to you?" poor innocent, naïve Ron. Harry was sure he would feel guilty for having to murder him in his sleep.

"Professor Snape." He ground out, gaze locked on his reflection as he tried to fix his hair. He could feel the weighted stares that crossed behind his back, could feel the smooth swing of the betraying item as it moved back and forth.

.

"Harry?" Harry had the feeling that Ron had been building up the nerve to just say his name. It had been very quiet getting dressed after their showers and he was sure that more than a few brows had been raised by his admission. But now they were outside and away from the immunity that the others provided harry was sure he was about to be bombarded with all sorts of ridiculous questions. "Do you fancy him?"

Harry was nearly floored. That was one question Harry had not expected, least of all from Ron whose usual talk of romance consisted of giggling at the idea of having a girlfriend. No wonder Hermione had given up on him.

"What?!" He had had to stop, else he couldn't be sure he would stay on his feet.

Ron shrugged in a nervous and uncomfortable way. "Well, it's just... well you've never had a girlfriend, and you spend all your time with him and now you're all angsty when he's ill..."

"He's ill?" Ron looked a little taken back by his interruption.

"Well Yeah. He looks it."

"He does?"

Ron looked resigned to the fact that he had lost the previous thread. "Yeah. Maybe you don't see it cause you see him every day, but yeah."

Harry's mind had suddenly gone into over drive, random images flashing through his vision as though all part of a giant full colour jigsaw puzzle, little things he had dismissed as singular things but now made sudden terrible sense. His change in demeanour, the pain on his face, and today, his staying behind. He felt the world tip around him and he reached out for his friends arm to steady himself.

"Harry?" Ron helped him straight again. "You okay?"

Harry looked at him wide eyed and without a reply broke away and ran. It had been a long time since he had run and he could feel it in his burning lungs, in the wild beat of his heart against his chest. His feet pounded along the flagstones and skidded as he raced around the corner. Never before had the dungeons felt so far away from Gryffindor tower. He was just beginning to tire when he rounded the last corner and came face to face with the entire population of Slytherin house.

"Huh?" it was an unintelligent thing to say he realised, but he hadn't prepared himself for this. He looked around the assembled and was shocked to find that a fair few were looking alarmingly close to tears. Harry could taste the bile rising in the back of his throat as he moved forward, the crowd letting him pass without comment until Harry found himself next to Malfoy who was leaning against a door. The feeling of dread increased when the blond faced him. It was obvious he'd been crying.

"Potter." Malfoy looked him up and down, eyes resting on the silver charm that had worked it's way loose. "What's wrong with him?" it was the first time he had ever heard Malfoy speak without his usual derision, it was a definite improvement.

"I don't know. What's going on?" he looked around himself, at the stares all focused on the pair of them. Malfoy shook his head and rested it against the door.

"He won't come out." He whispered abstractly. "He's trashed his office, we could hear him. He won't come out. He won't answer me."

Harry ran his hand over the smooth wooden door, raised it and knocked. Predictably there was no response after the echo had faded away.

"Professor?" No answer.

"Severus!" Malfoy looked at him then, a hint of a frown marring his smooth brow. A small movement could be heard within but it could have been anything. He turned back to Malfoy. "Is there another way in?"

Malfoy shrugged and shook his head, "He's never locked his office before."

Harry heaved a sigh, ear close to the door in case he heard a noise. If only he'd brought the Marauder's Map down, that would show any passages. But would he have the time to go back up and get it, and he was loath to use it in front of the Slytherins. He suddenly straightened. How could he be so stupid? He moved quickly past Malfoy and down the corridor stopping abruptly at the door to his treatment room. He could feel the weight of a hundred stares as he pressed his hand against the handle, feeling the familiar warmth as the door recognised him.

He was halfway across the room when he heard a muffled 'oof' and he turned to see Malfoy spread-eagled in the corridor. Evidently he had tried to follow Harry through but the wards had repelled him. It seemed that Snape had taken it upon himself to ensure that only those who had been invited could get through the door. He put on a bewildered look as though he had no idea why he couldn't get through and carried on. The next door went through to Snape's private workroom, the next door, to his office.

Harry paused at this and pressed his ear to the door, it was still silent. Slowly he opened the door catching it on some books that had landed against it. Malfoy was right, Snape had trashed his office. And quite thoroughly at that. Just about every jar that had lines the shelves had been overturned and smashed against the stone floor, some of them seeping and mixing together to produce small clouds of mist here and there, one of the puddles was currently eating through what looked like a very expensive rug. There were books and parchment everywhere, the desk swept clean and sitting in front of it, head tipped back against the intricate filigree of gold and silver was Snape.

"Sir?" Harry had the skittish feeling of trying to talk a hungry lion out of a tree. He found himself without words, 'what's wrong?' Sounded really stupid, as did 'are you okay?'

He opened the door a little further, cutting a clear path through the debris, and shut it quietly behind him. He picked his way through the room, avoiding the more lethal looking patches and sank down to his knees in front of his teacher.

"Sir?"

Slowly the head lifted and dark eyes focused on his and Harry was stunned by the depth of emotion, of pain, anger and betrayal.

"What are you doing here?" he voice was a monotone and the question was aimed more towards the closet at the back of the room than at Harry.

"I came to see you. To see if you're okay."

"I'm fine." It was a blatant lie and the both knew it. Harry was almost tempted to smile and indicate the room about them as proof of this.

"Malfoy's outside, and the rest of the Slytherins. They're worried about you." Snape looked away.

"I'll see them tomorrow."

Harry sighed at the deadened tone. A year ago and he wouldn't have even dreamed of being down here, trying to sympathise with the man.

"What's wrong sir?"

Snape didn't answer, instead he got to his feet and doused a particularly violent puddle of liquid that had just threatened to catch fire. Harry struggled to his feet and faced Snape's back as it was turned to him.

"I thought we could talk to each other." Guilt trips had always worked on Ron and Hermione, but it was a slim chance that it would work on Snape.

"I think you can guess." Was his reply.

"You have it too." Harry desperately wished that Snape would turn around and tell him to stop being such a melodramatic idiot and that he was merely annoyed that a delivery of ingredients hadn't shown up on time. But by the way his shoulders bowed slightly Harry didn't think he was going to.

There was a barely perceivable nod followed by a low "Yes."

"No!" the silence that followed his shout made Harry unsure as to whether he had actually said it or not. He couldn't, he just can't! Harry's mind spun and he found it a little hard to breathe. Snape was Snape, he was indestructible, he'd never been sick a single day that Harry had been at school. The man even taught after a night with the deatheaters. He couldn't be dying.

"Like I said to you." His voice was soft and eerily calm. "It's funny how one condition can strike so many in one group." His entire family, two whole generations wiped out by a blood curse. "Don't cry."

Harry wasn't aware that he was, but as he lifted his hand to wipe his face he smudged the moist trails into his skin. "But you'll be alright though won't you?"

Snape ran his fingers along the chipped edge of his desk. "I don't think so." He said levelly, he looked up at Harry's confused face. "I'm not as lucky as you were, it seems my ignorance towards my health has come back to bite me."

"But the treatment's working for me. You could take it too. Why...?" he finished, seeing his teacher shake his head solemnly.

"I've discussed this with Doctor Andrews, my chances of ever making a recovery are slim to none. It would be pointless to undergo a course of treatment when there is no realistic hope. It would only prolong the inevitable."

Harry looked about the office in dismay. "How long?" he whispered brokenly.

"Three to four months." He replied neutrally. Harry wondered how Snape could stand there and talk about it as though they were discussing the weather, while he stood battered by the maelstrom of emotion that sought to bring him to his knees. Snape had been the only constant in his life, unlike the others he had never used him as part of a bigger game, he'd never idolised that damned scar on his forehead. He was always...Snape. He was the only person that Harry believed to truly care for him, he'd gone from the harsh bastard they had all known in the past years to someone that Harry felt he could actually talk to. Someone that no matter how much Snape tried to differ, was similar to him. They had overcome their past differences and actually come to know each other, the first person that Harry felt he had any connection to, any real feelings for. And he was dying.

"It's not fair." He whispered.

"Life is never fair Mr. Potter. I've told you many times." A brief sad smile ghosted across his lips.

"But...everything you've done. What you did to save us. To save me! It's not fair, you repaid your debt!" his voice was rising and a sudden movement cut his speech. Snape had placed a silencing charm reminding Harry that the others were still crowding around the door.

"It doesn't work like that Harry. You're prime example, you have done everything expected of you. You rid our world of the worst evil imaginable and yet you find yourself succumbing to this disease." Snape turned fully and leaned back against the desk, fixing Harry with a peculiar stare. "But I do find it a little ironic how that now I have the chance to live my life as I please I have it ripped from under my feet once again. And I had so many things I wanted to do." The last sentence was uttered as though spoken more to himself, but their eyes remained locked and Harry was aware of a sudden tension weighted in their gaze. He felt the seconds stretch into an eternity turning everything into soft focus slow motion. The sudden heat that shivered down his spine made him gasp, a small sound, no more than a breath. Obsidian eyes lowered slightly, intent upon watching his tongue darting out, relieving dry lips, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

Dare he push this?

"Like what." He stepped forward, question breathed into the charged air. He stepped again.

"Don't." a hand settled against his chest, stopping him

"Sir?" he tipped his head knowing full well that it made him look innocent. He pushed a little against his restraint, noticing the quickened breath, the darker eyes set to enflame.

"I said don't." it was an order, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate measure before the stepping over the brink. And even as he said it his hand was inching up Harry's chest, dragging the fabric of his shirt.

Harry shuddered on a gasp, eyes flickering closed for the barest of seconds. "Why?"

"You have no idea." His voice sounded constrained, furiously keeping desire in check. Harry breathed out heavily and stared at him with sudden seriousness.

"Don't I?"

On his first day at Hogwarts, when Harry had first set eyes upon Snape, he had sworn to hate the man forever. Had loathed him for years for his hate and cruelty for unfounded reasons. But when his lips touched his ending the surrealty and bringing this moment to shocking clarity, he forgot it all. Every snide comment was replaced by the feeling of long fingered hands sliding into his hair. Every failed paper lost in the pulse of sudden arousal. Every injustification against his house repaid when those hands moved lower, dragging their bodies into full contact.

Harry groaned, giving opportunity and welcoming the hot slide of a tongue into his mouth, pressing back with his own. His hands found purchase in Snape's arms, fingers twisting and pulling the black shirt taut in his frantic grip. It was a kiss fuelled by the knowledge that this may be the only time, that their time on this mortal coil was slowly coming to an end, they kissed like dying men. Smooth tan arms were slung about the Professor's neck, his student's body arching as he leaned upwards begging for more, and he gave it to him. Surrendering to innocence, to beauty and purity.

'Don't ever let this stop', it was a chant echoing in Harry's mind, his only coherent thought. But it wasn't stopping, neither of them could now, would now. Their passionate exchange only grew more heated, as though they could find salvation in this act. In this blinding act of physicality, of desire, of lust... of love. Their desperation was wrung in every possessive hold they held on each other, in the way that fingers tangled in hair, pulling, driving deeper. Desire held long in check suddenly released, pulsing in hot beats where their bodies were pressed together. Lust was what caused ever wondering hands to seek out, to discover those places that would make the other sigh, gasp, moan into their mouths. And love... love was the whispered words, the silent gesture that made them leave the room, following one another down the darkened corridor. It was love that made Severus close the door behind him and take harry in his arms and hold him close, foreheads touching, chests heaving with spent breath. It was love above all else that drove them to his bedroom where he lay Harry down upon the dark silk like a glass treasure.

It was as a questing hand, hot and soft, made it's way beneath his shirt, stroking along the edge of his waistband as though not daring to go any further, that Harry felt a pang in his chest. A sudden release of nervous adrenaline. He was in bed with his teacher, about to do something so very against the rules. If anybody found out, he would be expelled, Severus disgraced and sacked. He was in bed with a dying man, a broken man and about to do something that was surely born of pity. He was in bed with Severus, a man he had come to befriend, about to cross a line, the line.

"Stop thinking." It was a command, breathed into his mouth before another onslaught. And Harry followed it blindly, placing all his trust in this one man. He shivered and gasped softly as Snape's full weight was laid against him, holding him to the bed. He moaned when their skin came into contact for the first time, blissful sensation ricocheting of every nerve, reducing him to a trembling child in a grown man's arms. He practically screamed when a leg was pressed between his, the friction nearly finishing him off.

His hands were forever busy, gripping the silken sheets in agonised bliss, smoothing and stroking along and up strong arms, threading into inky hair, holding his lover to his chest as his back arched into the hot wet kisses. Hissing in pleasure as lips then tongue, then teeth worked his nipples. He was ready to cry out, tears of frustration and desperation curved around his cheeks, losing themselves in his hair. It was so fucking perfect it hurt. Such expert hands lifting him with ease into each caress his tongue made, blazing ice and fire across his body. And then fingers threaded with his own, in a gesture so intimate it surpassed the kisses, the embrace they found them selves in. such compassion and understanding woven together in held hands.

It was abandoned in favour of removing clothes. The last barrier between them, and even in the dark harry trembled, nearly jumped when that strong, sure hand stroked firmly up his leg, resting at the juncture of hip and thigh, thumb rubbing maddening circles against soft skin. The bed shifted and a gentle kiss was pressed to his lips.

"I can stop." It was barely spoken, more an arrangement of changing air and sibilant breaths. Even though it was dark, nearing pitch, Harry could still see the small glint of light playing in his lover's eyes. An honest look if ever there was one.

"No." he was sure. Fingers gathered up the hair trailing across his face and brushed it back, holding it as he pulled Severus down for a hungry kiss, and with it his body, miles and miles of hot, smooth skin just waiting for his nails to rake across it.

"You're shaking." Said between kisses to his jaw.

"I know. I've never done this before." Harry waited with held breath as Snape paused. And then the kisses resumed, straying a little to lap at the length of winged collarbone.

"You only have to say." Harry groaned as teeth bit gently into the juncture of neck and shoulder.

"I trust you." He whispered back, meaning it with all his heart.

Harry came alive under his hands, lithe body moving and writing beneath Snape's, desperate for more. Gasping and sighing at every touch, every caress. He moaned into every soul destroying kiss, his hands touching back, roaming over the smooth expanse of skin, feeling the muscles move against his palm as Snape shifted above him in order to kiss his way down Harry's chest. His nails dug painfully into the hot skin, leaving blood filled crescents as marked territory when a sure hand hitched his knees up and pushed his legs apart, weight settling between them. Blessed friction and warmth made his back arch, a hand running the length of his spine as he left the bed. Skin was slickening now, allowing the slide of flesh on flesh.

"Oh God, please!" Harry's head was thrown back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut as he concentrated on feeling. He whimpered into a passionate kiss, tongue running the length of his bottom lip, seizing it between sharp teeth and tugging his mouth open, tongue pushing in and stroking in hard, even measures. Harry hooked his legs around Snape's, pulling him down hard and grinding them together, building up a rhythm. They shifted again, one of Snape's arms snug beneath Harry's neck, the other hand sliding down to hold Harry's hips steady as they moved together.

Breaths fell and rose in sync, the air around them charged and heady, sparking with energy against their flushed skin.

"Severus." Breathed out in a prayer. Harry felt the older man moan quietly, the faint vibration felt between where their bodies met. A hand hooked beneath his knee, pulling it up a little further.

"Say it again." Smoky voice muffled from where it was pressed against his neck, soft tongue bathing the salted skin there. Harry let his head fall back, opening up to the gentle ministration, a knowing smile on his lips as he moaned again, "Severus." Enjoying the harder surge of his strong body against his own small one. The hand against his knee slid down his trembling thigh and grasped at fleshy muscle, pulling them flush together. Harry let out a pure animalistic cry, burying his face into sweat slicked skin, teeth gritted as he fought to keep an edge on things.

"Please." He smoothed his cheek along Snape's, nuzzling in a seductive way before whispering softly into his ear. "I want you inside me."

He felt tension grip the shoulder he was hanging on to, hands stopped as a ragged breath left Snape, echoing hotly around Harry's ear. "Are you sure?" his voice sounded strained and Harry mentally commended him for his restraint.

"Yes." He put strength in his words, the last thing he wanted to do right now was to convince Snape that he meant it. His reply was met with a gentle kiss, so different to the ones they had shared so far. This was tender and gentle, he could practically feel the compassion roll off him in waves. A hand stroked across his face, mapping the contours as they kissed slowly, thumb tracing it's way along Harry's jaw in a similar action to the way it had caressed his hand all that time ago. Harry shivered at the depth and meaning to this new embrace, relaxing into it as first time nerves melted into something less terrifying.

"Hold on." A quick, soft kiss against his lips and then he was gone, the bed tipping and righting itself as Snape left, Harry looked around owlishly in the dark, unable to see anything but the lusted fog clouding his vision. He shivered a little as cool air wafted across his hot, sweaty skin, ears picking up on a soft movement on the other side of the room. The mattress dipped again and a warm hand placed itself against his face, stroking gently as lips found his in the dark. Harry vaguely wondered whether Snape could see despite the pitch black. He breathed out a satisfied sigh as that gloriously wonderful body stretched out on top of his again, hands returning to their wondering, eliciting tiny gasps as they sought out again all those sensitive parts of him. Fingers traced idly around his navel, causing his breath to hitch at the barely there touch. And then palm flattened against his stomach, Snape's hand moved lower, to more aching parts of him.

Harry hissed his pleasure as a firm hand wrapped around his arousal, stroking carefully. He bucked his hips, pushing himself into the warm grip. He cried out as that sinful mouth fastened to his chest, seeking and latching onto a nipple, the twin pleasures nearly sending him over the edge. He fisted his hand into thick hair, breaths hurried and containing little air. Harry felt delirious, out of control and safer and more content than he had ever felt in his life. He had finally found a place he belonged, trapped beneath a long, lean body, submitting in the most carnal way possible.

Snape's hand slowed its movement, breaking a whimper from Harry, thumb smoothing down the underside of his erection. There was a small movement and then a cool, slick finger was pressing against him, into him. Harry felt his body tense at the strange sensation, mouth hanging open as his brain tried to figure itself out. "Relax.", Snape purred next to his ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell, sending a thrill through Harry's already shaking body. The finger pressed further into him, slicking the cold gel inside him so that when it pulled out and returned with another it could do so easily. Harry inhaled sharply at the stretch, a hint of pain worked its way into his breathing. He remembered Snape's words and tried to relax, pushing back against the experienced touch. He moaned wantonly despite the pain when they touched something inside of him that made him ache with ferocious intensity. He pulled his knees up a little further, allowing more room for another finger to work it's way into his body, twisting inside him to reach that elusive spot. He was ready to scream, to tell him to stop, to carry on, to just do something please. But Snape seemed to have read his mind, fingers withdrew, slippery liquid wiped against the covers, and were used to hold him steady as something more real, much bigger pressed insistently against him. He tilted his body, hands cradling his hips as he was entered. One long, smooth, agonising slide of hot steel into his body.

Harry screamed his name, back arching until it felt as though he would snap. His body seized around the pulsing heat buried so deeply inside him, every nerve burning and sending conflicting messages to his brain. It hurt like hell, but at the same time it was the most intense pleasure he had ever felt. His chest heaved, breaths coming in pants as he felt himself relax, hands gripped, braced, against Snape's shoulders. They released their tenuous hold and ran down the sinewy muscle, resting where they held their bodies together.

"Harry?" Harry was quite frankly amazed that Snape could even talk, let alone with concern. He nodded his head dumbly, hoping that Snape would see him in the dark. He squeezed his hand reassuringly against the older man's wrist. Snape moved above him, coming to rest propped up on his elbows, hands framing Harry's face, wiping away drops of sweat from his forehead, he kissed him softly against the edge of his mouth, Harry's laboured breathing cooling his own heated skin. He began to move.

"Oh, God." Harry had found his voice, had renewed his grip on Snape's shoulders, leaving more nail marks in the soft skin. He let out a hard gasp on every stroke into him, his body rocking in time to the thrusts. He brought his legs up a little, crossing his ankles at the base of Snape's back, keeping him close, ensuring that every slide would cause the heated skin of Snape's stomach to rub along his aching erection trapped between their hot, sticky bodies. He felt himself lift his hips to every movement, using his legs to pull him in deeper, needing to feel Snape take him, own him. He found himself begging, begging for his teacher to fuck him harder, so that he might destroy the ache inside of him, and Harry clung to him, face pressed against his shoulder as each movement was quickened. Each stroke into him was blessed deliverance followed by aching loss, only to be filled again. The tension curling and twining in his gut was building, spreading, infecting him and all his thoughts. His only goal now was completion, his toes curled in anticipation. He was nearly there, each of his breaths coming faster and shorter than the last, his body tightening and shaking. And as he felt the first ribbons of ecstasy pulse through his nerves he was turned into a kiss so loving and passionate that it sent a second burst of raw bliss ricocheting through his body. He came with a cry, swallowed in the heat of his lovers mouth, body convulsing and pulsing as wave after wave of unadulterated passion washed over him, leaving him spent and weak in Snape's arms. His body's contractions dragged Snape over the edge, body stilling, breaths frozen in favour of focusing all concentration of pushing one last time into that tight heat and losing himself, in every way.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry woke to the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. He made a sleepy sound and pressed his face further into the pillow.

"Harry." Harry frowned in response to the soft whisper and shifted again, the soft cover slipping a little around his shoulders. A light weight dropped against his arm and the whisper repeated. He slowly opened his eyes, glad that the dungeons had less light than Gryffindor tower. Snape sat on the bed beside him, crumpled shirt half done up and threatening to hang off one shoulder. His hair was slightly mussed, as though he had spent the night tossing and turning than sleeping. But it was his face that caught Harry's attention, the way he would only meet his eyes for a brief second before looking away again, regret written plainly in every line. Harry felt himself chill as he sat up, holding the sheets against him to hide his sudden vulnerability.

"Severus?" Snape actually winced a little as he said his name, his head turning to look at the bedside table.

"I'm sorry." He spoke quietly, yet the admission echoed loudly in Harry's ears, "This can't happen." He sounded pained and an expression to match it flickered across his face as he watched Harry shrink in on himself. Knees pulled in and arms wrapped around them. It was his turn now to look everywhere but at Snape. "You have to understand."

"But last night..."

"Last night," he had a pleading edge to his voice, "Last night I...I was... I was angry, I was hurt. I was so many things and I should never have let it happen. It was a mistake. I'm sorry." Harry felt as though he had died inside, a hollow ache replaced the sheer contentment that had filled his soul when he had drifted off to sleep last night.

"Don't be." He mumbled to the covers, fingers working over the folds and dents to smooth them out. Neither of them said anything for a while, harry stared resolutely at the bed spread while Snape kept a careful eye on the boy wrapped so delicately in Egyptian silk, trying to garner some knowledge to his feeling by the reflections on his face.

"You should go." He said finally, and Harry nodded again, eyes roaming the room to find where his clothes were. There was already a fresh set folded neatly at the bottom of the bed.

He dressed quickly and silently while Snape left the room, he struggled to keep his breathing even, to battle the burning of his eyes. He would not cry over this. He managed to leave quietly without Snape noticing and headed back to his dorm, breaking into a run so that he could pretend that the ache in his chest was just the effect of the sprint and nothing more. He showered quickly, not looking at his body in fear that he would see some physical reminder of last night. He pressed his forehead against the cold tiles as the threat of tears overwhelmed him. Here, he said to himself, only here. He let himself cry, sliding down the smooth wall as the hot water rained down over him. His sobs wracked his body as he cried, glad that it was so early and that nobody would be up for at least another half hour. His face fell a little as he caught site of the silver glint against his chest. Funny how he hadn't noticed it last night. His eyes fell closed, the picture of misery. He wanted to scream, to yell, to kick and punch, do anything to get rid of this agony that ripped at his being.

"Another bad night Harry?" Neville asked in some concern when he sat down opposite him at the table. They were the only two there, Harry having sat there alone for at least an hour. He looked up in some puzzlement and frowned in questioning.

"You weren't in the dorm last night. We thought that maybe you were in the infirmary again?" Neville explained, looking up as Ron entered the hall, the first dregs of students meandering in as they came down for breakfast. The red head took a seat beside Harry.

"Everything alright Harry?" he asked, giving him a significant look. Harry remembered how he had left him last night and offered him an ambivalent noise in response. Ron would know what to make of it, but Neville would take it as a non-committal.

"Sure?" this one was accompanied with a slightly concerned look.

"Yeah, fine." He hoped he sounded it, that his voice wasn't hoarse from crying, that Ron couldn't see the faint red marks that littered his neck. He'd tried his hand at concealing charms that morning, but were only partially successful so he had to rely on his collar to hide things. He sat in silence while the hall steadily filled, the noise level increasing and grating on his nerves. Instead he focused on Neville asking Ron about the Transfiguration essay that they had to hand in tomorrow. The one Harry hadn't started, the one McGonagal would pull him up on if he didn't hand in. The conversation turned more serious as Hermione joined in, pausing only to comment that he didn't look to good and that maybe he should take the day off. Harry shook his head, a day in bed would mean that all he had to do was think, and Harry doubted he could handle that at the moment, although he might take the last lesson off, he had Potions then.

His silent reverie was broken when Ron pointed out that none of the Slytherins had turned up for breakfast. Harry looked up and saw that, like Ron said, the Slytherin table was completely empty. It was a strange sight and had captured the interest of nearly everybody in the hall who were twisting and turning to look at the abandoned area as though it might at any moment shed light on the reason for it's missing occupants. Already whispered rumours were being exchanged, one enthusiastic first year seated near Harry said without a hint of remorse that he hoped they'd all died. Hermione had actually taken ten points from her own house in rebuke to his insensitive remark. A quick glance to the head table revealed that Snape wasn't present either, a fact that had not escaped anybody's attention. Upon noticing this Ron looked at Harry with a very questioning look, he shrugged in reply but didn't fool Ron, so he shook his head to tell him that he couldn't tell him here.

Breakfast continued as though nothing was out of the ordinary, some of the students feeling a little disappointed that Dumbledore hadn't made an announcement of some sort. He looked, in fact, to busy in staring at his waffles and prodding them with his fork to care. So Dumbledore knew, and so did McGonagal by the look on her face.

Harry had hoped that classes would be the same, he could do without the reminder right now. But when he entered charms he found the Slytherins there already, which seemed to confuse the rest of the class immensely. He chanced a look at them as he sat down, eyes resting on a sliver blonde boy. Malfoy looked at him with void emotion and gave him a small nod before lowering his gaze to the desk. They all had one thing in common now.

Despite the house differences the lessons went quietly, everyone in the room picking up on the negative vibes given off by the members of the serpent house. At various points throughout the day Ron had tried to ask what was bothering Harry, and had figured out that it must be something to do with Snape if it had all of Slytherin and Harry worried. Harry had only aqiuesed to shut him up but had steadfastly refused to tell him exactly what was wrong with their teacher.

He had developed a headache through Transfiguration and McGonagal had let him go early in order for him to go and lie down, he slept through lunch and woke feeling worse than he had when he went to sleep. As a result he was barely in time for care of magical creatures, but Hagrid gave him a forgiving smile and asked him sit down and take observation notes for him so that he could run the class freely. Harry gave him a grateful look, knowing full well why he had asked him. Although instead of taking notes he mostly allowed his quill to wonder across the page in lazy patterns as the sun warmed his back, making him feel even sleepier. He stood at the end of the lesson on very shaky legs and handed the pages back to Hagrid with a sheepish look, who just clapped him on the back and thanked him loudly for the detailed notes. He told Harry under his breath that he could skip the essay if he wanted, just give him a blank parchment come Monday. Harry had smiled and thanked him for that.

He was halfway to the next class when he realised where he was going, the cold stone walls of the dungeons closing in around him. He debated whether or not to carry on, to feign sickness and go back up to the dorm, but then he reasoned with himself. He would have to face him some time, he had to see him everyday. Had to go to him tonight. Resolved to show Snape that he wasn't bothered he carried on walking, mingling with the other students as the filtered into the narrow corridors. He felt something flare up inside his chest as he neared the door, it stung and left him a little breathless. It hit again, a little harder this time and brought the dizziness with it. With a sudden thought of rationality harry remembered that he hadn't had his medication last night. He had gone straight to Snapes office. He breathed out sharply, noticing out of the corner of his eye that someone had stayed back a little, checking to see if he was okay. A hand gripped his arm.

"Potter." Harry looked up to find Malfoy looking at his, a strange sad expression in his eyes. He was no doubt thinking that this was what Snape would be like soon, his beloved head of house. "Let's get you sat down." He took the bag from Harry's shoulder and slung it over his own. Harry took the aide, not caring if it was Malfoy, Crabbe or bloody Voldemort himself. He just didn't want to collapse in a cold corridor. He made it as far as the classroom but had insisted that if he took another step he would faint. Malfoy helped him sit against the wall just inside the door, almost causing the other class members to trip over him as they came in.

"Harry?" Hermione crouched down beside him, the back of her hand against his face. He smiled at her reassuringly, telling her that he would be fine in a moment. She nodded sadly.

"Professor Snape should be in his office, could you fetch him." Hermione looked at Malfoy in ill-concealed shock at being asked something nicely by him. Harry inwardly cringed as she got to her feet again, passing her books to Ron as she made her way back out of the classroom. His head thudded back against the wall painfully as he looked around the class. Once again all eyes were on him. Before now the Slytherins would have stared with haughty indifference, but now...now they looked at him with something akin to fear. He heard footsteps hurrying along the corridor outside and closed his eyes. He did not want snape to see him like this. He wanted to show him that he wasn't affected, wasn't hurt by his rejection. But the memory clashed horribly with the knowledge that less than twenty-four hours ago he had been in the man's bed, in his arms. He could feel the misery forming as tears behind his closed eyes.

"Harry." His heart leapt at hearing that voice, so soft and so near to him, laced with concern. "What happened?" this question was directed away from him and he listened as Malfoy gave a description of the events that lead him to be sitting on the cold stone dungeon floor.

"When did this start Harry?" fuck! Why did he have to sound as though nothing had happened? Because nothing did happen to him, he'd probably shut all memory of it from his mind. Harry shook his head, frown creasing his brow.

"Have you been to see Pomfrey today?" he shook his head again and then stilled it abruptly when he realised that it wasn't helping him to do that.

"Open your eyes." Harry complied, looking at the fuzzy outline of his bent knee in front of him. He felt cool fingers press against his cheek, hoping to lift his face. He flinched away from the touch, only for it to grip with more insistence and pull his head around to look him in the eyes. He cringed at the blank look on his teacher's face. This couldn't be the same man from last night could it? There was no emotion in those eyes, not even the regret that he had felt that morning.

"I didn't take it." He said, his voice thick. "The potion... last night."

There, the brief flash of recognition in those dark eyes, Snape remembered. A look of shame passed over his face that seared it's way into Harry's heart as he stood. "Keep an eye on him." And he left the room.

Hermione sat down beside him again, taking his hand in hers. "Why didn't you take it Harry?" she sounded almost scolding.

"I forgot." He replied wearily, eyes closing again to stop the sickening sway of the classroom walls.

"You forgot! How could you forget?" now she sounded exasperated. Harry just groaned a little at her raised voice and pulled his legs towards him, burying his face in his folded arms that lay across them.

"Just leave it 'Mione. Please." From the silence he could tell that she was a little shocked and undoubtedly curious.

He pressed his eyes closed as hard as he could, dispelling a bout of nausea that was battling the empty feeling in his stomach. He should have eaten something at lunch. He let out a low keening sound and rocked forward a little, Hermione's arm slipped around his shoulders and hugged him gently. Harry almost smiled at the thought of telling Hermione what he was really upset about, why he had made that sound, because he knew that in just a couple of minutes Snape would be back and he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop himself from screaming at the man.

And sure enough, as he thought it the door swung open on it's hinges and in a flurry of black Snape knelt before him, setting something down on the floor and taking his arm. Harry felt the sharp prick, the light squeeze, recognised the sound of the purple mixture being stirred, counted down the seconds until his sleeve was rolled up and the potion forced into his veins. All the while he felt the heated stare weighing on his bowed head. It was obvious why he was avoiding the man's eyes, and he had no doubt in his mind that Snape knew that as well, but he had made it perfectly clear that he didn't care.

"I think it best if Mr. Potter were to be taken up to the infirmary. Mr. Weasley, if you could?"

Harry felt even worse at the brush off. So now he'd fucked him he could give up on the pretence of caring. Was this all a game to him, to get Harry into his bed, strip him of his virginity and then toss him away. He wondered if maybe Snape had a bet going with someone, but he didn't think anyone else could be that heartless. He lifted his head when Ron gripped him beneath the arms and helped him to his feet, his bag had been retrieved from Malfoy and they left the room together, their progress slow going as Harry leaned heavily on his friend, occasionally stopping to right himself and suck in a few deep breaths.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Ron shifted his arm under Harry's, balancing the weight of his friend and their combined book bags.

"S'nothing wrong." Even Harry wasn't convinced of himself.

"Yeah right. Care to tell me what made you forget about your meds?" Ron sounded determined to get some answers. Harry looked around, they'd made it to the stairs leading up to the corridor where the hospital wing was.

"Can we stop here a sec." He said, already sliding down one of the stone posts that held up the banister. Ron let go of him and sat in front of him on the step, waiting for him to speak. Harry tipped his head back against the rough stone, messing up his hair even more and exhaled slowly. He looked at the window over Ron's head, trying to sort out his feelings. Hermione had always told him that it was bad to keep things bottled up, that he should talk more often. Could he talk to Ron? Could he tell him about what he'd found out last night, tell him what had happened afterwards. He'd already guessed correctly that he had feelings for his teacher, but how would he react when Harry told him that they'd slept together? Just thinking about the whole sorry mess made his chest ache fervently and he uttered a soft groan. What the fuck had he got himself into?

"Harry? What's wrong?" at least Ron actually cared, he didn't just pretend. They had been through a lot together and he had the feeling that not even this could split them apart.

"He's dying." He couldn't help the way his voice broke a little saying it.

"Oh my God. Are you okay?" Harry gave a bitter laugh. He'd just told him Snape was dying and he was asking Harry if he was all right.

"Fine. I think he's a little fucked up about it though." That was an understatement and Ron no doubt picked up in the bitterness spat out in that sentence. He caught his friend's curious glance and steeled himself, breath held as he did some quick thinking, weighing up the odds and thinking fuck it! He needed to tell someone, to get this insistent ache off his shoulders.

"I did something really stupid last night Ron." He muttered, screwing the heels of his hands against his eyes causing strange shapes to play across his vision.

"Go on." Wary, a little nervous maybe but with genuine undercurrents of worry and concern.

"You'll be my friend no matter what right? He had to ask to make sure.

"Harry?"

"I slept with him." He waited, breath held, face still hidden behind his hands, for his friends onslaught. Every second that passed was torture, what was he thinking, was he disgusted, revolted. Where were the words of outrage, the shouting, the screaming. Was he even there? Harry slowly uncovered his face and peeked out from between his fingers. Ron was still sitting there, looking for all the world as though a basilisk had wondered along and challenged him to a stare out contest. "Ron?" that brought him back.

"You did what?" it wasn't shouted or screamed. It wasn't even spoken. It came out in a breathless whisper. Utter disbelief.

"I slept with him." He repeated, hands falling and knotting in his lap. "I know I fucked up royally this time. I feel so bloody stupid." His voice cracked with misery, head lolling to the side so he could stare unseeing down the stairs they had already climbed.

"Jesus Christ Harry!" there was the shock, "I thought you might fancy him but I never thought you'd go off and fuck him." He ended on a note of incredulity.

"He fucked me actually." He gave a twisted smile, which didn't help matters as it reduced Ron to a shaking mess scrubbing his hands across his face in hope of garnering some sense of reality.

"I know you've broken rules mate, but this is the one to break them all! What were you thinking... actually don't!" he shook his head in disbelief. Harry sighed and pulled his legs around, sitting up a little.

"Look Ron, I know what I did was phenomenally stupid, and I'm perfectly certain that it's never going to happen again. I understand if...you know." He wrung his hands together, waiting for Ron's 'thanks, but no thanks'. Instead he heard a weird kind of forced laugh.

"Like I'm gonna give up on you now." Harry stared at him in shock, unable to believe that Ron was still willing to be friends with him. "Snape! Jesus, you pick em don't you." Harry grimaced.

"Don't remind me."

"So what did he say?" Ron was getting to his feet again, intent on seeing harry up to the infirmary as instructed.

"The usual. 'Morning, hope you realise last night was a mistake, can you get out of my rooms now?'" he slumped back to the step as Ron let go of him suddenly.

"You're kidding?!" he was looking at Harry with the most peculiar expression, almost outraged in his defence. "He kicked you out?"

Harry held onto the banister and hauled himself to his feet. "Yeah. That was a real slap in the face I can tell you." He stood steadily, leaning against the railing.

"Tell me."

They carried on their slow procession, harry filling him in about that morning, about how he'd left the room without telling Snape, crying in the showers. Ron was now clued in to why none of the Syltherins had shown up to breakfast. By the time they had reached the doors to the infirmary Ron was seething in Harry's honour, but had promised him that he wouldn't do anything, or even tell Hermione. They both agreed that this was something she would definitely not understand, how could one of her precious teachers be involved in such a scandal, she would go to McGonagal in an instant.

Ron stayed while Harry was tucked into the bed nearest the window and offered sympathetic looks when Harry had to down five different foul looking potions. Hermione dropped by straight after class with notes she had taken for him and their weekend assignment, Harry thanked her but couldn't bring himself to look at it right now. They left at five to go down to dinner and had asked if Harry wanted them to come back up later, he declined saying that he was going to ask Pomfrey for some sleeping drought, Ron gave him a significant look as he backed out the door.

He was asleep when Snape came up to administer to him, and he slept right through the night and on through the next day, waking around mid afternoon and feeling thoroughly put out by it.


	9. Chapter 9

He was a little more than nervous as he approached the oak panelled door that night, stomach roiling with anticipation and nerves that he fought to put aside. He shook himself and put on his brave face. He knocked and waited for the command to enter. He shut the door quietly behind him and made his way to the customary position on the bed, ignoring the black figure working in the corner.

"How do you feel today?" of course Snape would carry on as normal.

"Fine."

"Better after yesterday?"

"Yes."

"What I gave you was a little stronger than usual, I hope there weren't any side effects?"

"No." Harry was careful to school his voice into a monotone, worrying that if he slipped he would reveal just how hurt he was. He rolled up his sleeve before Snape reached him and removed the plastic tube himself, limiting the necessary contact between them. It didn't stop him from flinching slightly when cool fingers gripped his arm and he was dealt with clinical effectiveness. He struggled to keep his breathing even. Snape finished with care but he didn't move away, Harry could feel his eyes burning into him.

"Harry?" Oh, so he was Harry now? He kept his head down, mask in place. "Harry talk to me." That was rich, he hadn't wanted to talk yesterday morning.

"What would you like me to say, sir? He managed to make the title sound like a four letter word.

"Anything." He sounded exasperated. Good.

Harry's lips twisted into a mock imitation of what should be a smile and he actually looked up, his mask dropping. He wanted Snape to see how much he had hurt him, how he had ripped out his heart and tossed it into the ashes.

"Why?" he filled that one word with all the betrayal and anger he felt at that moment. The combined effect resulted in a bewildered look on his teacher's face.

"I'm your teacher, I..." he began.

"I'm aware." He stopped. Looking defiantly at Snape, waiting for more explanations. He only shook his head slowly, mouth working as his brain struggled to come up with the words. He had no reason. "I see. Well in that case we have nothing to say to each other. Good night professor."

He slid off the bed, pulling his sleeve down as he went, managing to extricate himself from the narrow space between Snape and the bed without having to touch the man. He was proud of himself that he didn't slam the door on the way out.

That night Ron slept in his bed with him, both lying on their backs and staring at the canopy, silencing wards around the bed as they talked quietly. "He knows I know, ya know?"

Harry frowned as he tried to get his head around that sentence. He gave up. "You're aware you make no sense."

"Snape." He elaborated "He knows that I know about you two."

"Err how?" he looked over at Ron on the other pillow.

"Dunno. But I might have given it away by glaring at him all through potions this morning." Harry groaned and winced. "But... he wouldn't meet my eyes at all. It was strange, he didn't even speak to me, didn't take any points or anything. There was summat not right about him."

"He's just worried that this'll get out and ruin his career." Harry spat out, wanting desperately to be talking about something else.

"I don't think it's that." Ron said cryptically. Harry waited until Ron would explain, cause he sure as hell wasn't going to take an active part in this conversation. "It's just... weird. If anything he looked upset, not angry upset, sad upset. Made us take notes and just sat there looking all melancholy. If he regrets it like you say he does, then he'd just carry on being all...Snapeish." He finished, leaving them in silence. Neither said anything after that and Ron went to sleep five minutes later while harry lay awake thinking about what Ron said.

Ron's comments had bothered him and played with his mind all the next day, but it didn't stop him blanking Snape at every opportunity. When he went down to the cold dungeon that evening he sat passive as he was dealt with, no words spoken to each other and Harry stared at the patterns of the bricks on the far wall, leaving without looking back as he left.

The days carried on like this, harry threw himself into his work which had been previously neglected. Their work turning more serious as their N.E.W.T.s approached, Hermione had written out colour coded timetables that they could slot their work into and harry found that he was making good headway in his studies. Potions was by far a nightmare, he received no assistance other than the help Hermione would give him in hurried whispers, and he definitely wasn't going to ask for any. But he found himself deteriorating when spring turned, just in time for the holidays at Easter. He spent at least one morning in every three in bed trying to recover from the night's ills. Two weekends had been wasted in taking up space in the hospital wing, with Harry pretending to be asleep whenever his Professor would come up to him. And he wasn't the only one. Despite his resolve not to care Harry couldn't help but note that Snape seemed to be getting more and more ill as the days went on. The urge to ask him burned in his gut and the small part of him that still had feelings for the man had to be wrestled back when he saw him every night.

He kept thinking back to what Ron had said and he had to agree with him. He resorted to his old trick of using the reflective glasses in the room to check out the man's face, and Ron was right. He did look sad, but for what reason was he sad. Harry wasn't about to ask, he didn't care if he was being stubborn, it was Snape who had hurt him, had tossed him out on his ear that morning, practically told him that it meant nothing... no wait. He hadn't. He said it was a mistake, nothing else. How, in all the time he had been cut up thinking about it, had he not figured that out?

Yes, it was a mistake, harry would give him that. Not one of their best ideas. But Snape had never actually said that he hadn't wanted it, the best excuse he had come up with was that he was his teacher. Harry had been so absorbed with his own feelings to even consider what Snape might feel. He thought back to that night, the way they were with each other. Harry had never felt so loved and care for...and that morning, he could only just recall the look on Snape's face, hazed through his own recollection of those events. But it was gone, he couldn't place it.

He was still pondering the question, mind fully bent on it as he slipped from his bed, fingers idly stroking at the newly transplanted canular and no doubt with a far away expression on his face. He opened the door only to be snapped out of his reverie as it slammed shut, the handle pulling from his hand. He jumped in shock, head whipping round to find that Snape was standing much too close behind him, arm outstretched against the door. He glared at him in suspicion.

"I can't do this Harry." He said as an explanation. "I can't do it anymore, I can't watch you come and go everyday looking like you do, knowing that it's me who's done it." So he was trying to clear his conscience.

"You should have thought about that before you used me." He replied with venom.

"I didn't use you!" strong hands gripped at his arms, hard enough to bruise. Harry looked down at them, a little fear in his eyes. Was Snape going to get violent? "Just listen to me Harry." He paused, obviously trying to think of the best way to form his words and Harry was curious despite himself.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you... " Harry snorted, "I didn't. I just... there are reasons why we couldn't, why we can't. But... I don't care anymore."

Harry's frown eased, what was Snape getting at.

"It' s driving me insane that I've driven us apart. I didn't know how much I cared about you until that morning when you left without saying goodbye. I wanted nothing more than to go to you, to hold you, to kiss you." The biting grip on his arms left as Snape turned, walking the short space to the workbench, leaning his fists against it. Harry just stared dumbly at his back. "But I couldn't. I sat up all that night just watching you sleep, watching the seconds go by until I had to push you away. You have no idea how much it hurt to do that, to see the look on your face, to know that you hated me again." He turned back to him. "I don't want this Harry. I never set out to love you, but I do and I can't stop, and it's killing me."

Harry could do nothing more than stare. Snape loved him? So many thought and images whipped around his head, spinning his memories into a sickening ride. All this time, all this misery and agony and tears, Snape had loved him, had let him walk away. Had punished them both with this self-imposed silence and hate. He was at a loss for what to think, he hated him for doing it, for 'pushing him away', for making him believe that their night together had meant nothing. He wanted to scream at him, to ask him why he had put them through this when it was so obvious that they cared for each other. But at the same time elation rose in his chest. Snape...Severus, loved him. Had told him himself, and the way he looked at Harry now only made him believe it more.

He found himself stepping forward, and again, and again until he was clear across the room with his arms around Snape's neck and his lips on his. A split second hesitation and he was held in strong arms, crushing him against the tall frame. Their kiss quickly became passionate, each of them pouring their hurt and their frustration into it's depth. Harry groaned as he was lifted slightly, leaning up onto tip toes, shivered as fingers slid into his hair, anchoring him as he was kissed breathless. They broke apart with some hesitance, small kisses pressed against each other's faces.

"I'm so sorry." Snape whispered into Harry's hair.

"Don't be." He pressed his face against Snape's chest, feeling the fast heart beat against his cheek, "I think I understand, just...just don't say anything, let's just stay like this."

They stood together, leaning back against the worktable, arms wrapped around each other with possessive fierceness, just content to be within each other's embrace again. The silent, draughtless air punctuated by their laboured breaths.

"I missed this." Whispered longingly into Harry's hair. "I missed touching you, holding you. I was so scared that I'd driven you away for good."

Harry looked up, hand framing Snape's face as he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Shh, I'm here." He stroked his thumbs along the sharp cheekbones and leaned in to deepen their kiss, soft tongue lapping gently at the others lips. He relished the content sigh and pushed deeper, groaning into wet heat. Harry would have forgiven him anything just to be there in his arms, would have sold his soul just feel as safe as he did when Snape held him in his arms, surrounding him.

He practically purred when those hands ran the length of his spine, nails felt through his thin shirt. He abandoned their kiss to press his face to Snape's shoulder, nuzzling against the warmth as his hands continued to play along his back, he let out a soft mewl and smiled, sure that Snape could feel it against his neck. As much as he wanted to stand there until the end of time, (and he would if he could.) he stirred a little, leaning back against Snape's supporting arms and looked at him. Now there was the man that he had known, the open, caring look that was focused on him made Harry shiver and duck his head as he smiled shyly.

"So what happens now?" he asked hesitantly, unable to resist tracing his finger along the row of buttons that fastened his teachers shirt. Snape watched his movements, eyes hooded.

"You and me." He replied gently, taking his eyes off Harry's hand to look at the boy's face. "Us." He liked the way Harry's lips quirked as he said that. "But no-one can know." He added seriously. "If they found out...well, you know what would happen."

Harry nodded. "I understand. I won't say a word... oh shit." He grimaced as he exclaimed, hand resting in a fist against Snape's chest.

"What."

"Ron." Harry explained, shaking his head slightly as if rebuking himself for his own stupidity, he offered a sheepish look to the man holding him. "He knows about the last time. I told him." He let his apology write itself across his face.

Snape let out a heavy sigh and looked over Harry's shoulder, obviously thinking. "I thought you had. His death glare had improved a lot over the last weeks." He sighed again.

"He won't say anything." Harry rushed to defend his friend. "I mean, I told him what happened and he never told anybody about it. I think if I were to tell him this that he might understand. He knows that I don't have many people in my life." He moved his hand to toy with the collar, rubbing the soft material between finger and thumb.

"If he knows, he knows. I trust that you trust him. But we have to make sure that no-one else finds out." Harry nodded in earnest, heart thumping in his chest. They were going to do this. Harry had never been in a relationship before, even one as unconventional as this. He finally had someone to call his, someone who would call him theirs. He smiled cheekily.

"Does this make you my boyfriend?" he asked, enjoying the look on Snape's face.

"I think I'm a little too old to be a boyfriend." He dipped his head so that he could kiss his way along Harry's jaw and whispered into his ear. "But I could be your lover."

Harry melted against him, knees threatening to give. Lover. He couldn't deny the thrill of desire that rushed through him at the prospect and he tilted his head back to give his lover more skin to feast on. Sighs turned to gasps, gasps to moans, moans to cries when teeth bit lightly, soothing the reddened skin with a hot tongue. Harry's hands gripped reflexively onto his shirt, feeling the same pool of unchecked emotions building and gathering in the centre of his chest, the rhythmic pangs of adrenaline that flooded his system making his heart race. The echo of a matching pace felt against his fingers as his hand pressed against Snape's chest.

"Severus." He whispered softly, recalling how much the older man had liked it when they were last together. He enjoyed the drunken feeling that Snape could reduce him to, the feeling of utter abandonment, the wanton vulnerability that left him trembling and fighting for purchase in his rapidly deteriorating world. It amazed him how all around him could dissolve until the only thing that mattered was the person he was desperately clinging to.

He shivered in anticipation as long fingers slowly unthreaded his tie, dropping the offending item on the floor before tackling the first button. Harry relished the breath of cool air on his revealed skin, only to have it warmed again as lips descended on him, teasing every inch of smooth skin that was revealed. Harry's shirt was pulled from his waistband, the last of the buttons slipping easily from their holes. It was pushed wide, curving gently over the angles of his shoulders. Harry let his head tip back, heated moan lodged in his throat as skilful tongue and lips worked their way back up his throat. His shirt slipped down his arms, inch by agonising inch. The soft cotton acting as a restraint as Snape pulled Harry further into him, heated bodies meeting and pressing together in all the right places. This time it was Snape that moaned, hands wrapping in the abused shirt when it reached Harry's waist, his wrists still trapped within it's folds, and pulled harder, grinding their hips together. He discarded the shirt quickly, letting it fall to rest along side Harry's tie. He pressed his face against Harry's neck, inhaling the scent of youthful skin, hands pressing firmly up the strong back, content in just feeling the hot skin, the gentle curve from hip to shoulder.

Finally free of his restraint Harry could make sure that they were even in the clothing stakes. His fingers shook slightly as he unbuttoned his lover's shirt, smiling when, at last, he could run his hand freely across the creamy skin that he had thought of so many lonely nights. He threw his arms around Snape's neck, eyes sliding closed as the remembered bliss of skin on skin came flooding back and he couldn't help but rub slightly against the taller man.

"We can't do this here." Snape sounded as put out as Harry felt.

"Why?" Harry didn't care much for the reasons, what was the chance of anyone coming in anyway?

"Harry?" his voice was a little firmer but it broke when a firm kiss was placed in the centre of his chest. Harry relented.

"How about your office." He mumbled against Snape's chest. "Your rooms are too far."

Snape conceded this point, he took Harry's hand and started for the door, stopping briefly to make sure it was locked and pick up their discarded shirts. Harry barely looked around as they passed through his private lab and into the Professors office. The first thing Snape did was place heavy locking and silencing charms that even Dumbledore would have a hard time removing. He turned and watched as harry threw the bundle of shed clothing on a chair in the corner and fixed him with a hungry stare. It was an odd and surreal moment to be standing half naked in his office with his student but Snape put it to the back of his mind when slight hands curved around his waist, followed by sinuous arms wrapping their way around his body, a burning circle encompassing him. Sweet, kiss-swollen lips found his, doing an expert job of destroying his resolve. Snape let out a soft growl and in one movement he had picked Harry up, the boy's legs hooked around him automatically. Snape couldn't help smiling as Harry giggled innocently, eyes glittering as he stared down at him. Their kiss resumed at a different angle, Harry enjoying the novel experience of leaning down into a kiss and Snape more relieved that his hair didn't get in the way, allowing him to kiss Harry freely.

Snape took a step towards the desk, noting that he may as well not be holding onto Harry as the boy was doing a pretty good job of clinging to him on his own. He set Harry down in the edge, freeing his hands so that they could continue on their meandering path across Harry's body. He paused in his ministrations, whispering a barely audible pattern of words. Slowly, with tender kisses pressed to areas Snape knew drove Harry wild, he lay Harry down across the cleared desk marvelling at the childlike trust that shone in Harry's eyes as the boy gazed up at him.

He gripped the lightly muscled thighs and pulled, sliding Harry forward until the only thing that stopped him from falling off the desk was a well placed leg between his. Harry groaned, eyes flickering as he rolled his hips against him. Snape leaned forward, one hand braced on the desk, the other holding harry as his back arched making it easy for Snape to take one dusky nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. Harry cried out, trying to push himself into that sinful mouth. His hands came up to grip at tense shoulders, nails biting the skin.

Harry gasped in frustration as he found nowhere for his feet to gain purchase leaving him to roll his hips against the firm thigh that was pressed so achingly close to him, his lover must have sensed his growing desperation as he offered small movements. Harry stilled, letting the friction burn into him. The hand that had been supporting his back slid slowly down his trembling muscles, fingers stroking just beneath his waistband. Harry moaned in encouragement, his head turning so that he could rub his cheek against the inside of Snape's wrist, his lips pressing against the soft skin. He felt the body above him tense and realised why. He opened his eyes and looked to the spot where his lips had been pressed. There lay a faint scar, the remains of the dark mark, no longer black and menacing, just a raised patch of pale against pale but with a clear residual shape. He shifted so that he could trace a finger lightly over it, feeling the ridges and thicker skin where the brand had been burned into living flesh. He could feel Snape's ragged breathing as it ruffled his hair, the tension that seeped from every pore. He was so sure Harry would reject him.

Instead Harry gave a slight smile and, dropping his idly wondering fingers, placed his lips against the patch of skin again. He could practically feel the relief pour from his teacher. None of it mattered to Harry, the past was gone and so was all that happened in it. There was no point in begrudging a person for sins atoned. Besides, it was a part of who Severus was, something that had shaped him. And what was more, Harry took perverse delight at the shock and raw lust in Snape's eyes as he pressed the flat of his tongue against his wrist and licked, lips fastening around the sensitive skin. The hand at the base of his back flexed, nails raking across the slightly sweaty skin.

Snape's mouth was back against his chest, Harry's hand entwined in thick black hair, mouth still working in an imitation of a kiss against his teacher's arm. He mewled softly as his new toy was taken away from him, but was rewarded when both skilful hands lay flat against his chest, sliding smoothly against the hot skin as the travelled downwards, tension and desire following in their wake. Harry licked his lips, wetting them as careful, precise movements undid the fastenings on his grey school trousers. He whimpered in loss as the delectably warm body moved away from him, eager hands lifting him so that he could be stripped, underwear as well. Those dextrous hands torturing him as they stroked slowly down trembling thighs, fingers brushing the oversensitive skin behind his knees. They finally came to his feet pulling trainers and socks off as the rest of his clothes were thrown to join the ones already crumpled on the corner chair.

Snape looked down at the sight Harry presented, naked and gleaming in the low candlelight. He had missed this the last time. He reverently placed a hand on the boy's leg, letting his fingers drift up as he resumed his place between strained legs. There was nothing he wanted to do more than fuck him.

"Please." Harry gasped, seemingly reading Snape's mind and gasping at the feel of fabric against his naked skin. He watched as the look in Snape's eyes darkened and he leaned over him, pulling him up into a demanding kiss. Harry moaned fervently, his hands holding back inky strands of hair. He lost all sense of reason when a hand snaked down his abdomen, long fingers curling around his aching arousal. His head fell back against the wood with a dull thud, and Snape followed him, mouth still pressed against Harry's who lay passive beneath him, hips bucking into the sure grip.

"Oh God." He cried into Snape's mouth, his breathing erratic as he broke out in a full body sweat, his skin sliding against the smooth wood beneath him. He wasn't sure that he would be able to hold on if they carried on like this, he could already feel the thin tendrils of burning ecstasy winding their way around his body. He could feel his body tightening, his whole frame shaking as he was worked. He could feel every detail, every fingerprint on his Professor's hand as it stroked him. He cried out again as a thumb ran over the slick head. He was too close. "Now." He muttered between kisses. "It has to be now."

He made an inarticulate noise as his legs were pushed further apart, firm lips left his own for a second to whisper a command to the room before they returned one last time to kiss him hard. Snape pulled back and looked at him, Harry had never felt so wanted. He gave in blindly as his legs were lifted, resting lightly against strong shoulders. He briefly entertained the thought that he was fulfilling one of the age-old fantasies of being fucked by a teacher in their office. Those thoughts fled as he felt himself being breached, expert fingers pressing into him, stretching him, seeking out that place that made Harry scream. He found it, and harry did scream. Severus's name echoing of the stone walls as he continued to rub and tease, the legs around his neck trying to pull the lithe body further onto the practised touch. Harry hissed, breath escaping through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut as he tried desperately to temper the roiling lust that curled in his stomach. "Jesus." He panted, each gasp accompanied with it's own little cry as Snape continued to fuck him. He writhed atop the desk, skin sticking and sliding as sweat gathered beneath him. "Oh God, Please!" he begged.

His lover was merciful, and no sooner had those long fingers left his body he was filled again. Harry gasped at the agonising stretch as his body struggled to accommodate his lover. He relaxed into the slow, languorous slide in and out as he started to rock against him. Cool metal pressed against his skin and Harry realised that Snape hadn't actually taken off his trousers, the soft material felt strange as it brushed his skin. He made a noise in the back of his throat as that blissful area inside him was thrust against. He moaned at it's lost and then cried out in earnest as it was struck again, much harder this time. Each long push into his body was welcomed, each withdrawal mourned. Harry growled in frustration at their lack of closeness, his hands having no firm shoulders to hold onto, no dextrous hands with which to twine with his. He tugged a little at Snape's neck, letting out a pleased sound when hot hands were placed against his chest. But it wasn't enough. He untangled his legs, letting them drop a little and upsetting their tempo, he wrapped them around Snape's waist, drawing him close until they were chest to chest. Harry purred to himself as his lips were caught in a gentle kiss. An arm pushed itself beneath his body, lifting his hips as they began to move again. They forewent their kisses as both focused on breathing, their hurried pants blowing cold against each other's skin. Harry buried his face against Snape's neck as a particularly powerful thrust threatened to push him over the edge. He let out a surprised cry, which goaded Snape into doing it again, each stroke becoming more accurate, more powerful, faster, harder, until they could no longer distinguish who was making what sounds. The arm holding him pulled away, allowing enough space for a hand to squeeze between their bodies and take Harry's straining arousal in a firm grip.

Harry cried out, his voice becoming sore as he continued to groan. It only took a few strokes before he felt himself tighten, his muscles contracting like a vice and they both came together with ragged breaths and whispered names. They stayed as if frozen for a while, letting each other calm, allowing the residual shudders and after effects work their way out before Snape pulled out and slid to his knees, head coming to rest on Harry's stomach. They breathed silently for a while longer, enjoying the feel of each other against their skin, Harry's fingers carding through slightly sweaty hair, a soft kiss placed to cooling skin.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry smiled to himself as he headed back up to his dormitory, hanging his tie around his neck but not bothering to tie it. He took his time with the stairs, his knees still a little shaky. He had left the office in a much better mood than on the previous occasion. In fact Snape seemed reluctant to let him go, holding him until the last minute and pressing tender kisses to his face. He had left very happy indeed with the knowledge that he would be back down tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the next. All things considered Harry was glad he had a cast iron excuse to see Snape every day.

He spoke the password and clambered through the portrait hole into the common room, he checked his watch, surprised that there were so many people still downstairs at this time. They all seemed to be engaged in some sort of exploding snap tournament so they didn't notice harry coming in. still feeling sated and tired Harry headed for the staircase, reaching just as Ron was coming down.

"Oh, hiya. I was just coming to see if you were back yet. You've been gone a while." Harry checked his watch again, he'd been gone for nearly two hours, he was lucky that he hadn't been caught out after curfew. But the he considered that the only one who had ever caught him was currently holed up in the dungeons and unlikely to take points as he would then have to explain them.

"Everything alright?" it was asked quite genuinely and Harry noticed that Ron's gaze swept over him.

"Yeah." He nodded. Ron looked sceptical.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Harry frowned at him, "Why?"

Ron looked about the common room to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially into Harry's ear. "Because you're wearing his shirt."

Harry blanched, face paling as he looked down at himself. Now that he was actually looking it was obvious, he must have picked up the wrong one when he was getting dressed. This one was much larger, had a completely different collar, not to mention it was black! He was almost glad that Ron had taken hold of his arm and proceeded to drag him up the spiral staircase, it meant that no wondering eyes would check the fact that Harry had returned wearing something he hadn't been when he left. Of course, it also meant that he was about to get a good grilling from Ron. When had he learnt to become so observant.

As soon as the door slammed behind them Ron threw up a silencing charm, it seemed they were being used a lot lately.

"What the fuck Harry?!" he exploded. "You said... you said that it wouldn't happen again. And before you try to deny it, take a look at yourself."

Harry darted a quick look to the full-length mirror beside Dean's bed and saw what Ron was getting at, he looked thoroughly fucked.

"I didn't think it would." He stated, trying to stick to the safer side of things in case it all went awry. "Honestly Ron, I didn't set out to do this."

"So he came onto you?" Ron had started pacing the floor, turning abruptly and pacing back. It hurt Harry's head to watch.

"No...I..." Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"You came onto him?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It wasn't like that Ron..."

"I though t you said he thought it was a mistake!" he continued pacing, hands flexing in a nervous gesture at his sides.

"It was."

"So what the fuck is this?!" he threw his hands in the air. "Harry... you can't do this. It's illegal. This isn't sneaking into Hogsmead, this is someone's job you're fucking with. You are breaking the law! When this gets out your both in for it, and don't think it won't, you know Dumbledore, he knows everything that goes on inside this castle. "Harry stood quietly and watched his friend rant, he was relieved to see that he was more worried than angry but he still felt the undeniable pang of grief in his gut. No one would ever except them. "I just can't believe this Harry. I knew you were daring, but I can't believe your stupid enough to get involved with a teacher, to have an affair with him." That hurt. Harry was embarrassed to feel the sting of tears form in his eyes.

"He said he loved me." He spoke quietly, barely heard above the noise of Ron's pacing, but his friend stopped in his tracks none the less.

"What?" he didn't sound angry now, or annoyed or the least bit outraged.

"He said he loved me." Harry repeated, a little nervous at justifying the argument like this.

"Snape said that?" Ron sounded surprised. But then so would Harry if anyone had said it to him. "That he loves you?"

Harry nodded his head.

"Well bugger me," Ron said in awe, "the harsh bastard has a heart!"

Harry almost smiled, it must sound very strange to anyone who didn't know Snape like Harry did. "But that doesn't excuse it Harry!" Ron continued, the light-hearted moment lost. "Just because he has feelings for you doesn't mean you should go pissing about with him!" Harry snapped.

"Oh, fuck off Ron!" Ron turned and stared in shock, "For the first time in my miserable life I actually have someone who cares about me, who wants to be with me. So what if he's our teacher, so what if he's older so what if he's a he. Don't I have the right? Am I not allowed to be happy?"

Ron calmed a little, feeling a bit guilty. "I'm not saying that Harry. Of course you deserve happiness, but the situation..."

"Fuck the situation! It's not like I'm going to be shouting it from the rooftops, I'm not going to parade myself around, okay. Only you know, us and you. And I know that as a friend you wouldn't shop me."

Ron looked a little stricken. "Of course I won't, you know that."

"So what's the problem." He sat down heavily on his bed, Ron joined him cautiously.

"I'm just worried for you mate." They sat in silence listening to the wind pick up outside the windows, the faint patter of rain starting to fall. If it got any heavier, walking down to care of magical creatures tomorrow would be a nightmare. Harry shifted, staring at his hands that were resting palm up in his lap, he traced his finger over the life line, he choked a little on a bitter laugh. Trelawney had always said it was short.

"We're dying." He said after a while, when it seemed as though neither would speak again that evening.

"I know." Ron replied softly, a sad understanding in his voice. He took one of Harry's hands and held it in his own. "I'm sorry for being so harsh."

"Don't be, it's nice to know you care enough to worry about us getting caught." Ron huffed.

"It's you I'm worried about, Snape can take care of himself, he was a spy for god knows how many years."

Harry smiled and tightened his grip on Ron's hand. "Are we okay?"

"Mate," Ron said, smiling. "There is nothing that you could do to break us up, not now." He nudged Harry's shoulder with his own. "Except maybe resurrect Voldemort,"

Harry laughed despite himself.

There was a muffled 'hey' from outside the door and the sound of more feet climbing the stairs; it seemed that the tournament was over.

"Quick," Ron said, standing up and moving to the door. "Take that bloody shirt off!"

Harry started in realisation and struggled to undo all the buttons, pushing it into his trunk just as the door opened and the others came in. they stopped in the door and looked at them both. Harry and Ron looked at each other, aware of their guilty expressions.

"What have you two been doing?" Dean said around a mouthful of chocolate frog.

Ron sighed in a melodramatic fashion. "Having gay sex, what do you think!" harry nearly choked. The others just passed a look between them until Seamus said, "I bloody told you didn't I."

Harry didn't know whether to be amused or outraged.

"I stole your shirt."

Snape frowned as he closed the door behind Harry, his face relaxing when Harry drew the article out of his bag and handed it to him. "Sorry."

"I wondered where that had got to." Snape replied, in the manner of someone who had woken at three in the morning and spent the rest of the night wondering whether the house elves had taken it, and if they had how did he explain why it was on his office floor. His thoughts stopped when Harry pressed himself along his side, head on his shoulder.

"I took it to bed with me last night." He purred, "Snuck it out of my trunk when the others were asleep."

Snape laughed quietly and put the shirt down on the workbench, extricating himself from Harry's arms and placed a kiss to the top of his head. "Heaven knows what they would have thought had they seen you with it."

Harry grinned as he hopped up onto the bed, turning up the sleeve of his shirt and toeing off his shoes so that he could draw his legs up onto the bed. "Well Ron nearly went mental on me, but I talked him round."

Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "And is he as good a friend as you maintain he is."

Harry looked affronted. "Of course Professor! I don't associate with ruffians."

"Just as well, or we'd both be for the axe." He spoke solemnly. Harry just tutted and held his hand out for his finger to be pricked, preferring it this time as Snape kissed him softly to distract him from the pain, held him afterwards to dispel the discomfort of the potion in his veins.

Snape looked down at the young man in his arms, fingers idly running through his hair, smiling softly when harry sighed happily and nuzzled himself closer. He couldn't recall a single moment when he had been happier or more content. It seemed that all his life had been building up to this moment and not even the dull, throbbing pain that clouded his mind could stop him from cherishing every moment.

"I won't be teaching you tomorrow." He commented, voice quiet so that it would only reach Harry's ears. "I have to go to St. Mungo's, but I'll be back before you have to come down."

Harry tensed in his arms. "Is it anything bad?" he sounded so small, ill concealed fear in his words.

"No." he reassured him, hand stroking the back of his neck. "Just tests, you know the sort." Harry nodded against him, his shoulders still tight.

"I could come with you." Snape smiled, ever the martyr.

"As much as I would like that Harry, it would raise suspicion. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

All the same, Harry couldn't help his distraction all the next day, growing positively annoying in Potions when nothing anybody said could stop him from drumming his fingers against the desk, chewing his quill, rocking his chair back and forth. He only stopped for a while after looking across the room and receiving a withering stare from Draco Malfoy. Harry figured that maybe Malfoy was feeling a little of what he was and was handling it far better than Harry. But Severus wasn't Malfoy's lover, he was Harry's. He went back to rocking.

"What is with you today!" Hermione huffed as she packed away her books. "You've been absolutely unbearable!" she gave him a mock annoyed look. He grinned and shrugged sheepishly. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Urgh! Well I'm off to the library before dinner. If he gets any worse Ron, take him out back and shoot him!"

Harry choked in outrage as she flounced off up the corridor. He looked at Ron for back up.

"You have been antsy." He laughed. Harry growled softly. Mutinous friends, he thought, ganging up on me. They walked slowly up to Gryffindor tower with the others and deposited their bags. Harry changed his shirt as the one he was wearing had a weird mixture on it that had splashed out of his cauldron when Ron had dropped a pikka seedpod into their potion.

"God, I hope they have treacle tart for pudding tonight. I'm bloody starving." Said Ron emphatically, rubbing his stomach.

"S'all you think about isn't it." Harry chastised good-naturedly.

Ron sighed and stretched. "Looking out for number one." He said around a yawn. "Lets go."

They sat across from Hermione at the table who had a book open on the table next to her, causing Neville to eat with his elbow pressed to his side. Harry's gaze travelled quickly to the head table, being careful to look along it rather than straight to the spot where Snape usually sat, just in case he was being watched. He felt a jolt in his chest when he realised his teacher wasn't there but forced himself to calm. Snape had told him he would be back before he had to see him and that wasn't for another couple of hours, maybe he was running a little late.

He felt a nudge against his ribs and whipped his head round, desert had appeared and Ron was offering him a slice of the aforementioned treacle tart, grinning like an idiot. Harry waved him off, what little food he had eaten was putting up a valiant fight at being forced to stay down.

"Oh, Harry you've gone all green. Are you okay?" He looked at Hermione who had stopped her book perusal to study him instead.

Harry put a hand to his tightened stomach and nodded, a pained frown marring his brow. Was he feeling sick because of the treatment, or because he was worried for Severus?

"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey when dinner's finished." She pressed. Maybe he should, she could give him that funny tasting blue stuff that made him feel sleepy afterward. He made a noise at the back of his throat that the others took as a yes.

"Come on, I'll go with you now, Dinner's practically finished anyway." She shut her book with a snap and thrust it into her bag, swinging her legs over the bench, narrowly avoiding hitting Neville who was looking as though he might never sit next to Hermione again. He said goodbye to Ron who waved a treacle-covered fork at him in return.

He looked back briefly as he was leaving the hall, his eyes drawn to the headmaster who gave him a grave smile and an encouraging wink as he followed Hermione out. She nattered on about the book she had just got out of the library and Harry, not wanting to be ignorant, nodded and made small noises at all the appropriate places. After all she was whittering on about an essay from Hagrid who had, once again, told him he didn't have to do. Harry hadn't written an essay for care of magical creatures for months and he was wondering whether Hagrid was just making up his marks and if so, how long until McGonagal found out.

He whined a little as a sharp stab in his stomach nearly doubled him over, glad that he was near the infirmary. He patted his stomach in the way you would a small child when saying 'there, there dear. We're here now." As he pushed open the hospital wing door. He did a quick scan of the infirmary to see where Pomfrey was, his gaze growing startled when he saw her fussing over Snape who was sat on the bed that Harry had been in the last time he'd had to stay there. He schooled his expression with impressive control, looking at Hermione, who had not. She made a thoughtful noise which brought Madam Pomfrey's attention to them. She gave a little tsk when she saw Harry standing in the doorway but beckoned them over none the less, turning to say something to Snape which neither of them heard.

Harry approached, a questioning look on his face that was aimed at his lover. Snape just crossed his arms, eyes flicking to where Pomfrey was making notes on a small pad, he fixed harry with the full weight of his stare.

"I don't know Potter. I'm gone for one day and you end up in the infirmary. Perhaps they should rename it after you." Harry could see past the condescending sneer to the actual concern beneath.

"Nothing major Sir." He replied easily, "just feeling a little sick." He placed a hand back to his stomach for effect. "And yourself?" he had a hard time concealing his own worry, he could tell by the way Snape's gaze looked at the others before resting on him again.

"The usual." The sneer was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic tiredness, his eyes lowered. Harry didn't need to read between the lines to know how the appointment had gone. He looked down at his shoes, letting one run across the line between two of the flagstones.

Pomfrey made a last flourish with her quill and closed the book, she straightened and looked at Harry, an endearing look of disappointment and suspicion on her face that always managed to pull a grin from Harry. It was as though he injured himself on purpose just to annoy her. "Well!" she exclaimed, "up on the bed." She pointed at the bed he was stood next to. "Severus, you can go." Harry smiled at the way she spoke to him the same way she spoke to the students.

"I'll see you later Mr. Potter." He said to Harry, picking up the robe that had been draped at the end of the bed. "I hope you feel better."

Harry held a smile in check, "Thank you Sir." He watched as his Professor left the infirmary, heart beating faster than normal at the way they had interacted. Nothing untoward, but just knowing that no-one knew was enough to make him melt. Their guilty secret to hide away and keep. Just seeing him now made him impatient to go down to the dungeons now, to lose himself in the feel of his lover, to press his face to his chest and breathe him in.

"I'll have to get some more of this made if you keep carrying on like this." Madam Pomfrey grouched good-naturedly as she poured a measure of a bright blue potion. He liked the way she still treated him as though he was a wayward miscreant who brought trouble upon himself. He swallowed the potion down diligently and settled back against the pillows that Hermione had fluffed up for him.

"I wonder why Professor Snape was here." She mused after Pomfrey had left them to their own devices.

"Don't know." It was amazing how he could lie convincingly to his friend. "I expect he was just talking asking which supplies need restocking." He scratched his ankle, pulling his legs up.

"Mmm, I dunno." She sounded a little impatient, as though she couldn't bear the thought of there being something that she didn't know about.

"Well, whatever it is, it's his business." Harry added with a note of finality. He folded his arms in a pale imitation of their Potions Master. Hermione quieted and pulled her book out again. Harry let his mind wonder as she read, more anxious than ever to be with his lover.


	11. Chapter 11

He practically ran to the dungeons that night, every second that passed grew as an ache in his chest that could not be abated till he had thrown open the door and was enfolded in strong, capable arms.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked him as he repelled the door shut.

"I don't know." Harry shook his head, face pressed into soft cotton. "I just needed you." He raised his face, pained lines vanishing as gentle hands held his face and firm lips found his, offering a sweet kiss which Harry excepted readily.

"How did it go." He asked when they parted. Settling on the bed with Severus standing between his legs, Harry's arms loosely around his waist.

"As well as can be expected." He gave Harry a tight smile, working his way out of his grip so that he could fix the potion, his movements as precise as ever.

"Severus?" he looked back over his shoulder to the serious look that Harry was giving him. Damn the boy for being so persistent. He went back to his work, reducing the heat, stirring the exact amount of times, measuring it out. He stepped back into the circle of Harry's arms as he fixed the syringe to his arm, he spoke softly as he did so.

"As well as being abundant in my bloodstream, it's become lymphatic." He noted Harry's slightly confused expression. "That's to say it's travelling the lymphatic system, which in a way makes it a little more serious." He felt the tightened grip on his waist. "Harry?"

"No...tell me." He sighed and carried on as he disposed of the plastic. "When it enters the lymphatic system the cancer begins to attack the white cells which make up the basis of the body's immune system. As it eradicates them it literally wipes out your immunity making you susceptive to every kind of illness, give it a couple of weeks and the common cold will be strong enough to kill me." He held Harry's face in his hand and looked into the saddened eyes. "But don't worry, Dr. Andrews says there are ways and means to build it back up."

"But you said you weren't going to take the treatment."

"I'm not. What I'll take is just to keep me stable until the levels of cancer in my blood are too much for my body to take. I may not want to prolong death Mr. Potter but I certainly do not want to die as a sick man holed up in a hospital bed kept away from others so that they don't infect me."

Harry nodded in understanding his eyes locked on the catheter in his arm. It seemed so stupid to him to be taking this course of treatment and trying his best to save his life when Severus was so willing to give his up.

"I was thinking last night." He said quietly, infinitely sad. "About us." He answered the silent question, feeling the muscles beneath his hand set. "I was thinking how nice it would be. When I left here, that we'd get a small house not far from the sea and we could see it from our bedroom window. And there would be a small copse of trees out the back where you would pick all these things to put in the potions you brewed in the kitchen and I'd tell you off because it was nearly time for me to start dinner and you still hadn't cleared up. And you'd argue back telling me that it was important. And sometimes we'd go down to the beach on a windy day and you'd sit and watch me as I tried to fly a kite that I'd made from string and paper. And you'd try to tell me that it wouldn't work and then you'd go into this long lecture about the laws of physics and I'd have to shut you up with a kiss. And then sometimes, you would just sit and read to me in front of the fire while I played with your hair, and I'd fall asleep and you'd have to carry me up to bed... And then I thought that you wouldn't be able to. Because you won't be there."

Severus felt his heart break as the boy started to cry, he slid a hand into his hair pressing his cheek to the top of his head and tender kisses to his forehead. "Harry... you knew this..."

"I know," he interrupted, "but it doesn't make it hurt any less." Snape could feel the tears soak through his shirt and held Harry closer, praying that if he just held him tight enough he could make the hurt go away.

"Severus?" Harry's voice was muffled.

"Yes?" he loosened his hold so that harry could turn his tear streaked face upwards.

"Make love to me?" Snape would have done anything at that moment to wipe the pain from those eyes, he would have gladly gone back to Voldemort just to see a smile break out on that face. But he could do nothing and so he gave him his request. He poured every ounce of his love for Harry into his kisses, his touches. He was careful to the point of hesitant when he took him, moving slowly within him, holding him close so that he could feel how his heart beat for him. He kissed each tear that fell from his emerald eyes onto flawless porcelain skin. He listened to every nuance in the soft cries he gave, every gasp and sigh as his hands touched him. He soaked up the sight of his young lover, every twist and turn of his limbs, every arch of his back. He held on tight as Harry sought out his hand, fingers threading with each other as they had done that first time together. He felt his own tears fall at the open look on his face, the pure and aching love that shone in his eyes, it almost hurt to look at him. His hands burned where they had touched him, his entire body plagued with guilt that he had caused Harry this hurt. And when the waves of ecstasy crashed over them his ears rang with the soft cry of his name as he whispered Harry's in return.

That night was the first night that they had ever spent the night in someone's arms, a tangle of limbs and rhythmic breathing as they slept curled around each other. The sheets twisted where they moved together, seeking out new ways to bring each other comfort in the cold hours before dawn.

They dressed in relative silence the next morning, stopping before they left to simply hold each other. That night had meant more to each other than anyone could possibly understanding. That night they had given themselves away, taken each other into their hearts in a way that surpassed vows and ceremonies. As they had lain together in the pale morning light they had realised that they had found what so few in the world did. That they had each other, for however long they had. And when they kissed before harry went up to breakfast, and Severus went to his office, it was different to anything they had previously shared. It was desperate and it was passionate and it was filled with a soul deep ache and heart lifting joy that what they had was short lived but every second together was eternity.

Harry spent breakfast with his hands pressed to his face, scrubbing against his eyes to tease away the sleepiness. He cast surreptitious glances at the head table to check on Severus, who looked just the same as all the other times Harry had looked. It being a Saturday meant that he was mostly undisturbed that morning as most people had slept in. instead he wondered around the grounds, his mind constantly on their shared night together, itching to be back in the dungeons in his lovers arms. But he would have to wait, too much time spent together would prick ears.

Needless to say he was greatly relieved when Ron found him later and challenged him to many games of chess, all of which Harry lost. But at least his mind was diverted a little.

Harry ran a hand over his face for the tenth time that hour, the persistent dizziness in his head making it difficult to see what he was doing. He set his stirrer down and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow as he tried not to smell the fumes in the classroom. It had been two weeks since he and Snape had started their covert relationship and as yet they had failed to raise a single eyebrow. Harry thrilled that their secret would not be compromised, Snape just relieved and hesitant to the point of paranoid. But it worked, the snatched hours were a bliss to behold

He winced as pain flared in his chest, sucking the breath from him. It felt so much like that day after he and Severus had had that dispute, but he knew that this time it wasn't due to his lack of potion. That was always one thing they were careful to see to before things got out of hand. He coughed gently, trying to open up his suddenly tight throat.

"Harry?" Ron nudged him a little, looking at him in concern

Harry felt as though the world was closing in on him, the dark corners of the dungeon drawing close. The warm air choking in his lungs, the room tilted sharply and then righted itself, snapping back to harry with a severe feeling of claustrophobia and vertigo.

"I have to get some air." Harry said in a rushed voice, pushing his chair back in order to get up. The quick movement making his head spin, his chest tightening with every hurried breath he took. Ron was on his feet beside him, a hand on his arm to steady him, he heard his worried voice call out, "Sir?"

Harry hissed out a pained gasp as he felt a fire ignite in his veins, scarce patterns snaking into his vision as he screwed his eyes shut.

"Harry?" a surer touch took hold of his other arm, the familiar wieght and heat settling on him like a security blanket. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head, not sure why he was doing so, not sure whether he was trying to tell Snape that it hurt too much to think, or that he didn't know what was going on. He felt himself turned, felt the warm breath against his face. His hands left the table, curling into the soft black shirt out of habit. Just having him to hold onto anchored him.

"Hurts." He breathed, tipping his head forward to lean against the potion master's chest, his fists tightening their hold.

"Where?" Snape asked him, trying his hardest to support him without actually hugging him. He hated it when Harry was in pain, when the young man came to him, to curl up in his lap, head tucked under his chin. It was in these moments that Snape felt most helpless, unable to save him.

"My chest. Stings." Harry was panting, pained short breaths puffed out into the fume filled air. He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he nearly doubled over. He was slowly guided to his knees, the cold stone soaking into his robes as Snape knelt before him, his grip still strong on his arms.

"Mr Malfoy, run to the infirmary and get Madam Pomfrey." The order was loud and clear and Malfoy didn't need telling twice before he sprinted from the room, his robe fluttering to the floor as he shed it to run freely. "Harry." Snape focused his attention on his student who bore an expression of intense agony. His pained face pressed forcefully against his chest, half breaths hitching and racking his slim body.

"Can't breathe." He struggled to speak, his throat feeling as though it would close. The white-hot fire in his lungs burning any air that he could suck in through shaky breaths.

Snape gently lowered him to the floor, a hand held beneath his head to stop it from rubbing against the rough-hewn stone. He found himself panicking despite himself at the look on Harry's face. A few of the others in the room frowned and squinted, checking that it wasn't the rooms darkness that was causing Harry to turn that shade of blue. Harry tried to keep his eyes open, ignoring the tunnel that was caving in at all sides. He locked eyes with his lover.

"Se.." he tried to speak but Snape silenced him, telling him to focus on breathing right now.

"Keep your eyes open." He spoke to him softly, he motioned for Hermione to let Harry lay his head on her lap, she obeyed him without delay, her hands smoothing the cool skin, brushing the messy hair through with her fingers while she muttered nonsense to keep him grounded. Snape hurried to undo the tightly knotted school tie, the buttons on the crisp, white cotton shirt disappearing under a waved motion. He said something quietly to himself as he pressed a hand to the centre of Harry's chest, just above his heart. The other hand felt at the pulse in his neck.

"Sir?" Ron looked between Harry and Snape anxiously.

"Everyone out." He snapped, looking at the room in general who all hurried to meet his command.

"Sir?" Ron repeated, a little more urgent this time. Snape said nothing in return, only turned to him and placed his hands on his chest and neck like he had done to Harry. Ron straightened, a little shocked but understanding that he was comparing.

"Shit." It must be bad if Snape swore, his hands going back to the struggling boy. "Just hold on Harry. We'll get you sorted soon." He tried to smile but it wouldn't come.

"Don't leave." Harry coughed, his breathing becoming more and more laboured, the colour draining from his face.

"I won't." he promised. He felt Harry's hand brush against his and took hold if it, warming it in his own shaking grasp. Harry looked at him pleadingly, his eyes begging him to make it stop, to help him. But he couldn't, not this time. And he was just about to shout in frustration when the door burst open, Draco Malfoy holding it open for Madam Pomfrey who came bustling in looking very red in the face. Snape straightened his hold on Harry's hand still strong.

"Heart attack." He explained breathlessly, ignoring the gasps and squeaks from Ron and Hermione. "He needs to go to St Mungo's now."

"Right." Pomfrey said, eyes wide as she conjured up a stretcher, together Ron and Snape lifted Harry on to it, not trusting to use magic on him. "We'll need to run." She said rather breathlessly as she turned for the door.

They ran, through the twisting corridors of the dungeons and up the stairs, a group of Gryffindors trailing behind them that Snape couldn't bring himself to tell to leave. They didn't even stop as they reached the entrance hall where a ravenclaw class were taking rubbings of the various plaques that littered the walls. They all stopped and stared at the odd group of people running at break neck speed through, down and out of the large hall. They carried on running, along the gravel path that lead away from the castle, past the place where Snape had startled Harry when he had been casting stones, past the tree that the trio sat beneath. They all ran, lungs burning until they were past the entrance gate, a little further down the road until they felt the absence of the wards where they stopped, and all those touching the bed that Harry lay on apparated.


	12. Chapter 12

Ron sat down on the uncomfortable hospital chair in the strip lit corridor, eyes taking in the sight of his other classmates a little way off down the corridor. He sighed and leaned back, holding out the glass of water to the man sitting next to him.

Snape took it but didn't drink, preferring to cradle the cold vessel in his hands and stare at the ripples that flashed across its surface. It was as near to a nervous gesture that Ron had ever seen from the man.

"I'm not sure what to say." Ron admitted quietly, worried that his voice would carry in the bare hallway. Beside him, Snape raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "I mean," he carried on, "it's a bit of an awkward situation."

"You don't have to say anything Mister Weasley." Snape said softly, still staring and swirling the glass.

They continued to sit in silence for a while, the tension peaking and dropping every time the door opened and closed. At some point Dr Andrews came by to fill them in, the class having to watch as he and Snape talked in hushed tones near the corner. It seemed that one of the tumours that had manifested itself close to Harry's heart had come loose and was temporarily blocking one of the valves, making it hard for blood to circulate. He was currently undergoing surgery.

"He told me you know." Ron said some time later when he had grown bored of sitting in silence, and Hermione had gone off to find something to eat, taking much of the class with her. Only Dean and Neville stayed, staring at the small panel of glass set in the door, waiting for someone to come.

"I know." Snape idly cracked his knuckles, wringing his hands together. "I guess I should thank you for not running to Dumbledore."

Ron frowned slightly. "About you." He said gently, earning him a look. "He told me about you, that you have it too."

"Why doesn't that surprise me." Snape smiled minutely. Ron continued to stare at the man beside him, who continued to stare off down the corridor. He'd lost count of the times that Snape hand run a nervous hand through his hair, fingers flexing, hands unsteady and always moving. He never thought he would see the day that Severus Snape would be brought to this, a shaking wreck on the verge of breaking down.

"For what it's worth Sir," he ventured carefully, "I'm sorry."

Snape looked at him then, his dark eyes sceptical as he looked him up and down, as if to ascertain the truth of his words. "You hardly expect me to believe that you care for my health Mister Weasley." He said dryly.

Ron snorted softly, "You know what." He said tersely, "I wouldn't have. If anyone had told me you were dying a few months ago, I couldn't have cared less." Snape looked mildly impressed at his honesty. "But not now, not now he cares about you. Harry is my best friend and I have never wanted anything more for him than for him to be happy, no matter what he chooses. Who he chooses." Ron stared down at his knitted hands, "And if it's you he chooses, then..." he drifted on.

"Admirable sentiments Mister Weasley." Snape said genuinely, "Harry is lucky to have you as a friend, not many would be quite so open minded." He spoke quietly as some of the others came back through the door. Hermione sat down next to Ron, sighing and looking extremely frazzled. She leaned forward and spoke to their teacher.

"Madam Pomfrey has gone back to update the headmaster. She says she won't be too long."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, feeling that something significant had passed between the younger Weasley and himself. The other two lapsed into companionable conversation, always keeping to safe subjects. Which in Snape's opinion was good, because it looked as though anything could set Granger off and he wasn't sure he could make it if she started crying.

Everyone started (Neville quite spectacularly so) when Dr Andrews came back accompanied by the surgeon.

"Severus." He said, motioning him over so that they could talk away from the children. Snape stood on shaken legs, not entirely sure if he wanted to hear anything the man had to say. "What happened?" he asked quietly when they were far enough away.

"The surgery was successful." The other man spoke just as quietly, eyeing the students who were all craning their necks to see if they could hear. "We managed to remove the blockage and several small tumours that had grown in the area that could have posed a threat had they got any larger. There is however the chance of it happening again, tumours are notorious for their errant growth pattern."

"I would suggest that Harry come in every two weeks for scans from now on." Dr Andrews picked up after the surgeon finished.

"But is he alright?" Severus couldn't care less about growth patterns, he just wanted to know that Harry was okay.

"He's fine." The surgeon supplied, "they'll be taking him up to ICU now, someone will be down to get you when he's settled." He nodded to Dr Andrews and gave Snape a tight smile, backing through the door and off the room where Harry still lay.

"I can't understand it." Andrews said, his hand running through his hair, adding to the puzzled frown, "He seemed to be doing so well with the treatment."

"We all know the statistics." Snape said sadly, watching through the thick glass door panel as a heavily equipped bed was wheeled from the operating theatre, one pale arm visible under the mass of wires and blankets.

He had to go, he was going to break and he would be damned to the seventh circle of hell before he cried in front of students. He took a steadying breath and turned, hoping to God that he didn't look like he felt.

"Granger." He barked, causing her to jump a little. "I'm trusting you to keep everything in order." He walked past them all, earning a few strange looks from the assembled Gryffindors as he snatched his robe from the bench's arm. There was a rush of questions, 'what's wrong?', 'is Harry okay?' but he didn't stop to answer them, instead he walked, practically ran down and out into the flowered courtyard. He wanted to scream, but kept that at least in check, not so much for himself, but because he knew Weasley had followed him, the youths footsteps slowing until he stood beside him.

"What do you want?" He snapped, turning on the other man.

"I came to make sure you're alright." Ron replied, stunned at the grieved look on his teacher's face.

"I'm fine." He muttered, unused to other peoples concern. Ron looked at him with scepticism.

"What did Andrews say?" he said in a wary tone.

"He's fine." Snape replied tersely, "they managed to fix him up. He's good." He stared at the floor, eyes following the pattern of lines between the bricks. "I should tell the headmaster." He made to move but was stopped when Ron actually reached out and took hold of his arm.

"Stay." He said gently. "He'll want to see you when he wakes up."

Snape stared at him, unbelieving that the boy could be so faithful and loyal to his friend, enough to want him to stay, to actually care enough to come out and check that his friends lover was alright. No one else would have done that. Slowly he nodded, and Ron let go, nodding sharply in return.

Ron was unsure as to who looked worse.

Snape sat at Harry's bedside, his ailing health becoming far too apparent on his already pale face as he tentatively reached out and placed his hand over Harry's.

Harry flinched a little, his eyes flickering as they had done for a while now, his body struggling to free itself from the anaesthetic. He shook his head when Hermione opened her mouth to question his actions, a little amused at her confused expression. When this all got out she was definitely going to go ballistic at them for keeping her in the dark.

But right now he was trying to get over the fact that his teacher could look anything other than cross, let alone have such a compassionate and tender look on his face as he stared at the pale boy in the bed.

They waited with held breaths as those eyes flickered again, lighting up the room with deep emerald as they finally opened. Ron couldn't help the stupid grin that plastered across his face, even though Hermione was sniffing softly next to him.

Harry looked around slowly, his brow marred with a frown as he obviously tried to locate himself. His eyes finally rested on the Potions Master, he blinked slowly and offered a weak smile.

"Hey." Snape whispered softly, leaning over a little so he could brush the hair back from Harry's forehead. "How do you feel."

Harry smiled as if to say 'How do you think I feel' but added "Meh." To placate the man.

"Good." Severus gazed down at him, unable to say exactly how he felt. But it seemed that Harry could read it all in his eyes as he tipped his head a little into the soft caress that his teacher's fingers were making through his hair. "You had us all worried."

"What happened?" Harry asked, his voice thick.

"You had a heart attack." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A tumour that was growing close to your heart came loose and blocked one of the valves. They took you into surgery and managed to remove it, but there is a chance of it happening again."

"But I'm okay right?" he searched the dark gaze.

'God, no', Severus thought, 'you're closer to death than I am.' "Yeah, your good." He gave the boy a small smile, Harry didn't have to know, and Severus wouldn't tell him of the conversation that had occurred between himself and Dr. Andrews. Wouldn't tell him that this was it, there was no way back and that it was only a matter of time. "They say you can go home in a few days if you show some improvement. So I want you to focus on getting better."

Harry smiled and nodded. Such trust.

Snape lifted the hand entwined in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it, making Harry's smile a little wider. "I have to go. I need to see Albus, but I'll be back soon, and Ron and Hermione are here."

Harry's smile faltered but he didn't complain. "Don't be too long." He whispered.

"I can't believe you never bloody told me!"

Ron waved his hands and 'shushed' her, his wild eyes flicking over to the sleeping boy.

"He's going out with a teacher!" she carried on in a furious whisper.

"What was I supposed to say hermione?!" Ron put in, all the time making sure that they weren't disturbing their friend.

"I don't know? But I'd have liked to be kept in the circle!" she paced over to the window, leaning her weight onto her knuckles as she glared at the traffic flowing past on the London streets below. "He's going out with a teacher!"

"I'm aware!" Ron replied with a hint of sarcasm. Hermione huffed, her breath steaming up the window for a couple of seconds. "Look Mione, we didn't tell you because we didn't know how you would take t. he was scared that you would run straight of to someone and destroy something that made him happy."

"I wouldn't do that!" she said crossly, as though it were absurd that he could even think that.

"But we didn't know that! You're so straight laced! Remember the time you had Harry's broom confiscated!?"

"That was different!" Hermione said indignantly, "At the time he had a convicted criminal out after him, how was I supposed to know it was clean?!"

There were a few minutes of silence where Ron sat at Harry's bedside, rearranging the sheets around his friend and keeping his hair from spilling onto his face.

"I just don't agree with it Ron. It doesn't seem right. I mean...why him?" she asked.

"Because he loves him." Hermione raised her eyebrows. "They love each other."

Hermione gave a short sarcastic laugh and opened her mouth to say something that would no doubt run along the lines of 'don't be so stupid they couldn't possibly be in love' but Ron got there first.

"Don't deny it Mione. You've seen for yourself, you were here, you saw how they looked at each other." Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "You should hear Harry talk about him, I've never seen him happier than when he's off to the dungeons. How could you not want that for him?" he looked at her.

Hermione's hardened face softened. "It's not that I don't want that for him. But could he not have found someone...I dunno...more deserving. Snape has never treated him right, he's always been such a bastard to Harry. He's never once been fair or just to him, he took all his anger and bloody minded ignorance's out on him. And now I'm supposed to believe that he's in love with him. That don't sound like Snape to me, it's too surreal." She finished on a note of finality.

"You can choose not to believe it, but I do. You didn't see the look in his eyes when I followed him earlier. I've never seen that man look afraid, even on the field of battle when he was covered in his own fucking blood! I have never seen fear in his eyes. But I'll tell you Hermione, when I followed him out he was afraid, he was fucking shaking, the man had tears in his eyes! What does that tell you, what do you think it would take to make that man cry?!" he stopped when he realised that he was shaking himself and Hermione was staring at him in shock and fear.

They stared at each other, frozen on the spot, both realising that this was going to be the ultimate test of their friendship. They both jumped when the door cracked open and Dean popped his head around the door.

"Can we come in?" he asked quietly, motioning with his head to the other boys that were craning to see inside the room.

Hermione and Ron still stared at each other, waiting. Hermione broke first.

"It's fine Ron. Just surprised me that's all." A visible weight seemed to slide off both of them. "It'll take getting used to." She whispered as Ron pulled her into a hug.

"I know." He said, blowing at the bushy hair, "I still am."

"I'm sorry." She muttered wiping hr eyes on the back of her hand as she pulled back.

"Guys?!" Dean called from the doorway.

"Give us a minute!" Ron snapped. The others vanished from the doorway. He turned back to Hermione. "Just do me a favour okay?" she nodded, "when he wakes up, don't grill him on it." He gave her a pleading look.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah okay...I'm gonna take a walk, get my head round a few things. Did you want anything from the machine?"

Ron shook his head. "Don't be to long. He might wake up soon."

"You can go in now." He heard her say as she left the room, letting in the sheepish looking Gryffindors.


	13. Chapter 13

The next few days were long ones. Waiting until Harry was well enough to be transferred back to Hogwarts. He was relatively quick in making a recovery although many of the doctors had reservations about him leaving their care. But Harry was adamant; he wanted to go home.

A week later he was awaiting the signing of his transfer papers with the strict guidelines of bedrest and absolutely no stress until he had completely healed. He gently rubbed the pattern of stitches under his shirt as he watched Dumbledore in Dr. Andrew's office. He couldn't wait to get back. Getting back meant that he would be able to see Severus.

He had missed him these long days, as there was only so many times the man could come see him without raising suspicion. Although he had managed to work something out with Ron who was being a great friend by relaying letters back and forth between them. He had liked it when Ron had rolled his eyes at the eager expression on his face when he received the first one, and was acutely aware of the disapproval rolling off Hermione in waves.

He hadn't so far had the chance to talk to her properly yet but had been assured by Ron that their secret was safe, but with grudging reluctance. He was distracted by the door opening.

"Ah...and here he is." Dumbledore proclaimed genially. "Are we ready for our trip back?" Harry grinned back at the old wizard and bent to retrieve his bag.

"Oh don't be so silly! I'll get that." Harry would have protested as the old man took hold of his bag but it seemed that he was stronger than he looked. His eyes widened in apprehension as he noted the pocket that held all the notes from Severus hadn't been zipped up and that a couple were threatening to slip out. He stuffed them back in and hurriedly did it up as Dumbledore turned to nod in farewell to Dr. Andrews.

"Goodbye sir." Harry said, smiling at his doctor.

"Goodbye Harry. Take care."

They walked out to the Apparition point and waited their turn on the platform before the headmaster took a firm hold of Harry's wrist and appeared at the gates of Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey was already present along with a large squishy armchair that she had spelled to hover along side them as they walked. It was, in Harry's opinion, one of the best ways to travel.

His return had caused an uproar in the common room where all his friends welcomed him back with heartfelt acceptance. But where he really wanted to be was the dungeons. So when everyone had gone to bed that night and Harry's stomach protested at the odd combination of liquids that Pomfrey had made him ingest when he had dutifully reported to the infirmary that evening, he slipped out his cloak and snuck off down the corridor.

There was no light coming from under the office door, likewise with the personal lab and treatment room, so Harry walked further down to Snape's rooms. He knocked gently on the door, unsure as to whether there were any lurking Slytherins out after curfew.

There was no answer so Harry whispered the password to the brass door plaque that bore his teacher's name and the door opened with a soft click. He slipped through it and shut it just as quietly.

He looked about the living room, the fire low in it's grate casting long shadows over the dark furniture. There was a book left open on the arm of a chair and a half-full glass of water next to it. He let his cloak fall from where he had wrapped it about himself and draped it across the back of the sofa, wondering where his lover could be.

He heard a soft movement from the door that lead to the man's private study and he made his way over to it. He watched as he stood in the doorway.

Snape sat at his desk, fingers threaded in his hair as he sat, shoulders slumped, staring at a silver framed photo that Harry recognised instantly. His eyes softened as Severus reached out and traced a finger over the image of Harry that waved up from its place in the frame.

"Severus." He whispered softly. The other man jumped a little and snapped his head to where Harry stood.

"Harry?" he leant back in his chair to get a better look at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

Harry gave him a sheepish smile as he walked across the room. "I wanted to see you." He couldn't help the sadness the permeated his voice. Now that he was closer he could see that time and illness was taking its toll on his lover. He looked paler and much more tired that usual, even his eyes had lost that spark.

Severus shook his head and dropped his eyes to where the boy's hand had rested on his forearm. "You shouldn't have come down, you're supposed to be getting rest." he spoke quietly.

"I missed you." Harry said in way of explanation, his hand tightening a little on Snape's arm.

"I missed you too." The other admitted softly, raising his eyes to look at Harry's face, he gave him a small smile which was returned.

He should have objected when the boy climbed onto his lap, head resting on his shoulder, but he found himself wrapping his arms around the lithe body and holding him with a gentle fierceness. They sat that way for a while, assured in each other's presence, taking their fill.

"Are you okay." Harry asked tentatively after a long period of silence, his hand raised to play at the hem of the professional robes, running idly along the stitching. He felt the man pause, the infinitesimal way that his body tensed, could feel himself the weight of the silence before his lover answered.

"No." a simple word, barely breathed into existence, yet it's meaning was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath before blowing it back out. He nodded slightly in acknowledgement of the word. He couldn't ask, not now.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Snape smiled into Harry's hair. "You could stop me from worrying about you and go back upstairs and get some rest." he was meant to sound stern but it came out fondly.

"But then I'll worry about you." Harry whined, face still pressed against his shoulder.

"I'll tell you what," Snape moved so that he could stand, leaving Harry in the chair as he walked over to the cupboard that held his own medication. "I'll worry about you until you're better, then you can worry about me. Okay?" he pulled out a metal box and set it down on the desk. "Now...you should be in bed, and I would feel a lot better if you were." He fixed Harry with a stare. "Do you need me to walk you up."

Harry unfolded himself from within the chair and casually leaned against the desk. "Nah, I'm okay." He said quietly, he lifted the lid on the box and looked at the multitude of vials and needles. He blinked as tears pricked his eyes.

"Harry?"

"Can I stay?"

Snape's face softened. "You know you can't."

"I just...I mean...I want to see you sleep." He felt the blush creep over his face at the odd request, and he was sure he could feel Severus frowning at him. "I mean... If I can't stay the night, then I just... It's stupid I know." He sounded defeated.

"I understand." Snape said gently. He looked at the box on his desk, unsure if he really wanted Harry to see him after he had taken them. "Could you wait for me in the bedroom?" he certainly didn't want Harry to watch.

Harry looked hesitant but did as he was told. He busied himself by slowly lighting each candle and stoking the fire. He carefully folded the blankets down and fluffed up the pillows. He breathed hard, knowing that just a couple of doors away his lover was buying himself another couple of days. He wiped furiously at the tears that spilled onto his cheeks and focused on smoothing out the folds in the silk sheet.

"It's so unfair." He whispered into the dark.

"Harry?" Severus stood in the doorway.

"I said it's unfair." He repeated, smoothing over the sheet a final time before standing. He looked at Severus and noted that he had a warning look on his face. "I know, I know. I knew this." He said grudgingly and flashed a brief smile at his lover. "Are you coming to bed now?"

Snape nodded and pushed away from the doorframe, meeting Harry half way where he took the boys face in his hands and kissed him gently. "Remember to go straight back up." He said.

Harry gave a short laugh and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Like I would dare stay now."

"Too right." He replied, looking down at where Harry had started unbuttoning his shirt, his careful fingers taking their time undoing each and every one. Sure and measured movements sliding it from his shoulders. He allowed his eyes to close as a kiss was placed against his neck. He had missed this, missed the heat of another body against his. Missed the compassion and understanding that Harry gave him. Missed the gentle touch of a lover. He didn't object when he was pulled back to the bed, allowing himself to fall bonelessly back onto it, that sinful body crawling up alongside his as he lay there.

He hummed softly as wandering hands divested him of the rest of his clothes, and he really shouldn't have been surprised when another bare chest pressed against him. He felt himself shaking his head.

"Harry. Stop." He felt the body next to his still. With considerable effort he dragged his eyes open to look at Harry who was staring at him in the low light, confusion plastered all over his face. "I'm sure that this was not on the list of things you could do Harry. You are supposed to be resting." He objected.

"I think we both need this." He heard him say, voice muffled from where he was busy kissing his way along his collarbone.

Severus felt himself arch into the kiss, eyes pressing closed. "Harry, I can't"

"Shh, it's okay." He was reassured, "Just relax." He did as he was told, body melting into the soft mattress as warm hands and an even hotter tongue worked their way over his body, his guilt assuaged by his lover's tender ministrations. He couldn't help the hiss that escaped as Harry lowered himself onto him, or the way his hips bucked into the tight heat. His hands settled on his thighs, feeling the muscles move as he moved above him.

He sighed into a kiss as Harry leaned down, the scratch of stitches along his chest bringing their plight into sharp focus. He came quietly, just a second after Harry and was lucid enough to fold the shivering body in his arms as they came down. He felt his skin tingle as harry cast a cleaning spell and missed the warmth as he slid away.

He smiled a little as cool covers were pulled up from the bottom of the bed and draped over his sated body. A heavy weight settled next to him, fingers carding through his hair and he turned blindly into the caress.

"Go to sleep."

"Wake up Harry. You'll be late for breakfast."

Today was the first day that he was allowed to go back to his usual routine instead of having to stay in bed all day and rely on the frequent reports from Ron and the others to keep abreast of going on's. He had had quite enough of having to do his homework whilst propped up on pillows all the while listening to the sounds of merry making drifting up from the common room. Ron had been great, staying with him as much as he could, but he missed his classmates in the long hours when classes were on. He missed Severus too, even more so because Pomfrey had taken to giving him his potion, but he was sure that this was more to do with not letting the head of Slytherin into Gryffindor tower when it wasn't an emergency.

He asked Ron about him every chance he got, but apparently there wasn't much change. Which didn't surprise Harry, Severus was a proud man and would quite happily walk around with a severed arm before admitting that there was anything wrong.

He groaned and kicked his legs out of the bed, shivering as his feet hit the cold flagstones before finding his slippers. He groped around for the trousers he discarded the night before and was relieved when Ron pressed them into his hand. He dressed blindly and followed his friend down to the common room where he was met with a tumultuous applause. He grinned shyly and waved them down as he clambered through the portrait.

He was relieved to find himself sitting on the familiar wooden bench, more so because he would get to see Severus. And just as he thought it the man himself strode through the side door. He watched him as he settled himself into the chair on the left-hand side of the headmaster and say a few words to his colleagues. A smile flitted across his face as that stare focused on him for a second before moving on. Yes, he felt better now.

He turned his attention back to breakfast, more importantly on Ron who was busy piling scrambled eggs onto his plate until they threatened to spill over the edge.

"Hungry?" He asked dryly, reaching himself for some pancakes.

"We have Binns first thing." He replied, as though that explained everything. "And you're not supposed to be eating those." He snapped as he pulled the plate out of Harry's hands and replaced it with a banana. He snorted at Harry's outraged look but shot him down with a look when he was about to protest.

History of Magic was just as boring as it had ever been, but at least he had a fighting chance of understanding the subject due to the heavy reading he had been doing whilst cooped up in the tower, he even kept up with Hermione on taking notes.

He was just before lunch when he started to grow accustomed to the stares that followed him wherever he went. It was as though the entire student body expected him to keel over at any moment. He comforted himself by tracing the warm medallion that rested on his newest scar.

Care of magical creatures was the same, although a chill wind blasted them as they stood around the paddock watching the longhaired frinks nose around in the feeding trough. Harry was glad of his teachers compassionate nature as he spent much of the lesson snuggled in the thick layers of his mole skin coat, idly wondering just how many moles they had to use to make it.

Potions was last, and perhaps the lesson he was looking forward to most, just to spend time in his presence. They spent the lesson taking notes from their textbooks before going on to making the base potion to the one they would be trying out next week. Harry couldn't help but watch him out the corner of his eyes as Snape walked around the class, pointing down at someone's notes and correcting them where they had gone wrong. He could feel him coming nearer to him but could hardly keep the shock from his eyes when he actually stopped beside him, dropping down so that he could look him in the eye and ask him outright if he was feeling better. For all the class to hear. Which clearly had not gone unnoticed, just about everyone had turned in their seats to watch the unusual display of humanity.

"I'm fine sir." He replied in a way that made it sound as if he wanted to ask the man the very same question. Snape looked thoughtful for a second before standing.

"Could you stay after class please." He waited until harry nodded before returning to his desk. Harry looked at Ron who mouthed at him "What was that about?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head. Whatever it was it didn't bode well with Harry.

He packed his things slowly as class ended around him and the rest of the students dutifully filed out. He waved Ron away saying that he would see him at dinner before approaching the desk.

"You wanted to see me." And for a moment he was almost tempted to say 'sir'. He felt his throat tighten at the way his lovers face fell from his proud mask to the infinitely tired one.

"Yeah." Even his voice was tired now. He looked at Harry. "I can't treat you anymore."

Harry felt his eyes widen, he hadn't expected that. "Why?" he stuttered. His gaze shifted from Severus' face to his hands as he held them out, shaking.

"As you can see, I'd be a bit of a liability when it comes to administering. The headmaster has arranged for a Nurse from St. Mungo's to come by each evening to see to you. You'll still need to go down to the dungeons as the equipment will stay there."

Harry nodded blindly, feeling slightly numb. He hated it when he was provided with more proof to his lover's illness, when he was reminded that soon they would be torn apart. He heard the other man speaking through the fog in his mind.

"I'm alright Harry. You don't have to worry, it's just a side effect." Harry knew he was lying but he was grateful for Severus' attempt at reassuring him. "Come here." He obeyed as those arms opened up and pulled him into a strong embrace, cradling his head to the warm shoulder the way he had always done. Even like this he could feel the fine trembling in the tall frame. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if by doing so he could erase all the bad things so that when he opened them it would just be him and Severus. A kiss was pressed to his temple and he sought out the lips that had left it there, kissing them desperately. He could feel the tears on his cheek as he pushed deeper. His hands twining in the thick black hair, anchoring him.

He groaned as it was returned, just as enthusiastically, arms around him holding him close. A thumb traced along his cheek, smudging the salty tracks, lips diverting to kiss at the warm skin. He leaned back, basking in the glow of the others love as his face was held in his hands as though he was the most precious thing in the world to him.

"I love you." He whispered, hands clutching at the soft material that wrapped the firm body. "I love you so much." He felt his breathing hitch and pressed his face back against his chest, wiping the tears away.

"I love you too." He was pulled back so they could look at each other. Severus wore a look of uncertainty. "Harry, I..." he looked away, as though trying to determine something. "I want you to have something...just...wait here." He backed off slowly, the uncertainty still on his face. He left the classroom through the door that lead to his office leaving Harry alone in the cool classroom.

He took the time to compose himself, wiping his face on his shirtsleeve and breathing deeply to calm himself. Severus returned only a couple of minutes later, looking more unsettled than ever, making Harry nervous.

"I'm not sure how I could say this," he said, standing close to Harry again. "I mean...it's not even legal." He seemed to be speaking to himself as he fumbled in his pocket. He looked Harry in the eye. "But...I want you to have this." He pulled out a small circular box, the dark red velvet old and worn around the edges where it had been handled throughout the years. He held it between them and opened the lid. "I don't know if it would mean anything to you but..." he paused and harry looked up at him, at the open and honest look he gave him, "I think... I could have spent the rest of my life with you."

It seemed that time had stopped, Harry was certain his breathing had and he had to remind himself to take a breath. He felt himself begin to shake. Could Severus really be asking him? He looked down at the small box he held lightly in his hand, at the bright ring that sat in the midst of the dark blue silk that was so much like the one that Severus had presented his Christmas present in. he let himself reach out and touch the sparkling band, loving the way the light bounced off the highly polished silver.

"Severus...?" his voice sounded choked and his chest was tight as he looked hopefully up at his lover.

"I would." He said, issuing relief across Harry's face. "I would love to marry you." He rested a hand against his face. "I have never felt this way about anyone before, I never thought I could." He whispered brokenly. He watched Harry carefully, searching his face before the young man launched himself into his arms, crushing him with his weight. He gave a short laugh as Harry started crying into his shoulders, glad at least that they were happy tears. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

Harry pulled back. "Of course." He sniffed, trying desperately to hold back the tears as he grinned back at him. "God...I just... I...oh Sev!" he cried as he threw his arms back around him, hugging him fiercely. "I love you." He murmured into his shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Severus laughed, holding him until he leaned back and kissed him warmly. "Do you want to put it on."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, completely forgetting about the ring. His grin widened as it was lifted from its silken nest.

"It belonged to my mother." Snape explained, sliding the band onto Harry's finger. "It's the only thing I have that was hers. My father left it to me when he died."

Harry gazed down at his hand fondly, turning it so that it would catch the light. "It's perfect." He whispered. He looked up at Severus who was holding him loosely in his arms. "Thank you." He leaned up and kissed him softly.

"It's you I have to thank." He replied, returning the kiss. They held each other for a while before the clock on the wall reminded them of the time. "You should go, it's nearly dinner. Your friends will be expecting you." He sounded reluctant to let him go.

"Walk up with me?" harry asked. Hand entwining with his teacher's. He frowned when Severus shook his head.

"I have to see Poppy first, but I will see you up there." Harry nodded, smiling softly at him while he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"You'd best do." He warned playfully, before hugging him hard and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. "I'll see you later." He kept his eyes on his lover until he had closed the door behind him. He started off down the corridor, the widest, silliest grin plastered all over his face and his eyes threatening to spill even more tears. He stopped for a while when he started to hear the general noise of dinner filtering down the corridor. He tried to pull the smile in.

"Harry!" he swung his head round, "I was just coming to look for you. We didn't think you would be this long." Hermione looked a little put out. "Harry?" she asked, seeing the amusement on his face.

Harry had tucked his hand behind his back when he had heard her voice, knowing that although she had accepted their relationship, she wasn't happy about it. "Just coming." He said, walking past her towards the hall. He stopped when she grabbed his arm.

"Look Harry." She was staring at the ground, "I..." her gaze flicked nervously up to his face and back, "I wanted to apologise for being such an arse."

Harry was taken aback. "What? You've been great..."

"No!" She interrupted, "No, I haven't. Ron was right... I'm too straight laced." Harry frowned at her. "But I've been thinking these past few days, about you and...and...him." She finished on a whisper as though anxious not to be over heard.

"It's alright Hermione, I don't..."

"And it's okay." She blurted out, "I've thought a lot, and I know that when I found out I wasn't happy about it, I mean who would be?" she saw something in Harry's eyes and hurried on, "but, it's not about me. And I thought that I could either oppose it, and possibly lose my friend... Or I could support you. I just want what's best for you Harry."

She saw him about to speak. "And I've realised that is, Ron told me about how you talk about him, and how you're always happy when you've seen him. And just now, I've seen it for myself...who am I to deny that." She finished softly, she flashed him an apologetic smile.

Harry let out a breath and smiled back. "Oh, Mione!" he pulled her into a brief hug, "You'll always be my mate, no matter what." He looked her in the eye. "I know that people are going to oppose us, I wasn't sure if you would but...it's just who you are. It's not a bad thing. But I am grateful that you support me." He grinned, lifting his hand to wave it in front of her face, "Because he just proposed."

Hermione's eyes went wide and she grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand still as she stared at the ring of silver that contrasted so nicely with his tanned skin. "Oh my God!" she said, plainly surprised. "I never would have thought."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "He's quite a nice person you know." He said playfully.

"Even so," she carried on, eyes still fixed on the ring on her friends finger. "It's a bit unexpected." She turned his hand, "It's real nice though." She said, a tinge of awe in her voice.

"It belonged to his mother before she died." He said quietly. Hermione's gaze snapped to his face.

"Oh, I didn't know." She replied.

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger. Shouldn't you two be at dinner?" they both turned to face Snape as he emerged from the shadows. Hermione blushed furiously and harry grinned at him.

"We're just going Sir." He said cheerily, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Snape stopped and gave them both a suspicious look.

"Make sure you do, we don't want you collapsing due to malnutrition now do we?" even Hermione could hear the fondness in the statement. She watched, face going even redder, as he rested his hand briefly against Harry's face before he prowled up the corridor and around the corner.

"We should go." She said gently, linking her arm with his as they walked.


	14. Chapter 14

Dinner was uneventful, aside from Ron knocking over a pitcher of juice and choking on his ham after catching a glint of polished silver in the firelight. Hermione and Dean had to pound him on the back until he could breathe again. He gave Harry an incredulous look but wisely said nothing.

That was, until they had reached the common room and he had requested some alone time in the dorm with Harry. He had expected some kind of disapproving words or even a diatribe along the lines of 'but you're both dying, what's the point' but even Ron wasn't that tactless. Instead his friend pulled him into a hug and congratulated him with a slap on the back, and made a dodgy comment about whether this made Snape his honorary brother in law. Harry said it did, just to see Ron wince.

He dutifully marched down to the dungeons that night, only realising halfway there that the nurse would be seeing him tonight. He had become so used to the gentle way that Severus saw to him that he was thoroughly put out by the almost rough practitioner. He stopped by Snape's office on the way back up but saw no light coming from beneath the door. He thought about going to see if he was in his rooms, but realised with a start that he was probably in the infirmary, like he always was on a Wednesday night. Usually for restocking...he didn't like to think what else for.

He took the long way back to the tower, the way that just happened to go past the hospital wing where he poked his head around the door. He had hoped to just catch a peak of Severus, reassure himself that he was okay and slip off quietly. But Pomfrey had seen him.

"Mister potter!" she came blustering over, "What are you doing out so near to curfew?" he stood up straighter and shut the door behind him.

"Err," think fast Harry, "The nurse didn't give me a plaster. I don't want it slipping out." Pomfrey looked at him with suspicion, then huffed and motioned him over.

He looked around but saw no sign of Severus. Maybe he was down in his rooms, Harry's mind gave him a mental shrug. He cleared his throat as the matron dug around for a plaster that would fit snugly over the catheter. She came back triumphant and with a well-practised movement had it secure on his arm.

"Well, there you go." She said, obviously pleased with herself. Harry smiled at her in thanks and was about to step down when the door at the other end of the infirmary opened and the headmaster stepped out. He slid the door shut with a soft click and walked towards them. Harry noted that the ever-present twinkle had vanished from his eyes.

"How is he?" Pomfrey asked him.

"Asleep now." The headmaster sounded tired, his gaze shifted to Harry. "And what brings you here this evening?" he asked him cheerily.

"I needed a plaster." He said distractedly, "Is that Professor Snape?" he asked, indicating the room at the end. Dumbledore nodded once. "Is he okay?" he asked, heart beginning to quicken.

"He's fine. He's just here to be observed, everyone has to if they take something new." It made sense but it didn't calm Harry's nerves.

"Can I see him?" he slipped off the bed and looked anxiously at the end door.

He felt the weight of Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder as he spoke. "Not right now Harry. Severus needs his rest. He'll be as right as rain come tomorrow. You have potions don't you?" Harry nodded, staring at his feet. "Then you'll see him then."

Dumbledore must have sensed Harry's concern. "He's stronger than he looks Harry. He'll be okay. Now, you should be off to bed, get some rest yourself."

Harry left them, wondering just how they had managed to keep Dumbledore in the dark for so long. It seemed as though the headmaster didn't even think he knew about his teacher's illness. He crawled miserably into bed that night and spent many hours lying awake and staring at the canopy. He was half tempted to sneak out his cloak again and creep down the hospital wing. But Severus would be mad if ever he found out. Despite his troubled thoughts he drifted off into a restless sleep.

And woke late the next morning to Ron shaking him and half dragging him down to breakfast. He sat at the table with his head in his hands, scrubbing at his tired face. He had already chanced a look at the head table and was unnerved to find that Severus wasn't there. He forced himself to calm, it wasn't as though he went to breakfast everyday anyway. Besides, the headmaster was there, if anything was wrong he would be the first to know.

He felt himself relax, and found himself looking to transfiguration first thing and charms after. Harry's favourite combination of lessons. Then it would be lunch and he could excuse himself to go and find Severus who was probably holed up in his rooms already after having a blazing row with Madam Pomfrey about needing to be in his own bed.

He watched longingly at the pile of scotch pancakes that Ron was drizzling syrup over while peeling his orange. He really did hate his new diet.

He didn't think he would ever know how he was late to transfiguration, he thought he had learnt the castle by now. He Ron and Hermione arrived just in time to be counted in for the register, McGonagal's eyes rolling as the trio sheepishly found their seats. They spent the lesson trying to turn a pair of tweezers into an earwig, laughing as Neville actually produced a wig for an ear.

Charms was fun. They were learning how to charm food and drink and they had a good time trying to put the bubbles into lemonade. Ron tried it on milk and ended up having to find a cloth to wipe up the resultant mess. Because of the noise the three of them had managed to find a relatively quiet corner in which to talk without being over heard.

"But seriously!" Ron said, dicing an apple into a hundred pieces, "I can't believe you told her over me!" he whined.

"Am I not important enough to be told now." Hermione said indignantly, rejoining the sliced apple.

"Of course you are darling." He said placatingly, pouting his lips and fluttering his lashes. "But as his future best man, I should have had the honour."

"Oh be quiet the both of you." Harry admonished. "I'd have told the first person I met. I couldn't keep it from either of you." He smiled as Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron. "And anyway, who said you were going to be my best man, huh?" he slung his arm around Ron's shoulders.

"Cause you're supposed to ask your family, that's why. And I can't imagine that cousin of yours fitting into formal robes too well."

Harry grimaced at the image and laughed as Ron did an impression. Hermione excused herself to go and get some fresh food to work on, Harry tracked her through the classroom, doing a double take at seeing Professor McGonagal talking to Flitwick at the lectern. He frowned and craned his head to see what they were talking about when she looked at him.

"Mister Potter." She gave him a steady look, "Could you come with me."

Harry's heart dropped like a stone.

The sense of foreboding arose fresh in his stomach and he couldn't help the way his skin crawled as he broke out in a sweat. His panic must have shown on his face as Ron put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Quickly mister Potter." McGonagal said, beckoning him with her hand. The urgency in her voice had snaked its way into the jovial atmosphere, leaching the warm carefree feeling from the room. Harry looked around him, at Ron who seemed to feel some of the nerves that he did, at Hermione who was gripping a pineapple a little to hard.

He nodded and put down the glass of water he had been changing colour and obediently followed the professor out of the classroom. As soon as the door was shut he spoke.

"What's going on." His apprehension had shot away his social niceties.

"Hurry along." She said to him in reply, gathering up her skirts as she walked. Harry struggled to keep up.

"It's Severus, isn't it?" McGonagal's steps faltered at the informal use of her colleague's name. She looked down at Harry with a perplexed expression. "Please, just tell me." He didn't like to beg.

"Yes." She sped up again, "He's asked to see you."

That did not sound well.

He had to stop himself from running to the infirmary, terrifyingly aware of each second that was slipping away. He reached the doors ahead of his teacher and he burst through, heading straight for the door at the end of the wing.

Both Pomfrey and Dumbledore were already present but he looked straight past them to the figure in the bed. Severus looked as though he was asleep, his pale skin barely contrasting with the white sheets. He rushed to the bedside, clutching hold of his hand. He was shocked at just how cold he was. He watched with held breath as those dark eyes fluttered open, unconsciously running his thumb along the back of his hand, like Severus had done for him all those months ago.

"Hey." That deep voice had been reduced to a whisper but it was still the most beautiful sound to Harry's ears. He smiled down at him.

"Hey." He was tempted to reach out and run a hand through his hair but was aware of the eyes on his back. "Professor McGonagal said you wanted to see me." He said quietly, hating the way his lover's eyes closed for a long second, heart stopping until they opened again.

"Yeah... In private." He looked at the others in the room. Harry could tell by the tension that they didn't feel comfortable in leaving him.

"We'll just be outside Severus. If you need anything." Dumbledore said, ushering the others out and not quite closing the door behind him. He waited until it was quite.

"Sit down Harry." He nodded at the bed. Harry carefully folded his leg up beneath him as he sat, finally able to let his fingers drift across his lover's face. They stared at each other for some time, the weight in their eyes too much for Harry as he lay down next to him, his hand curling up where it rested on his chest, hands entwined.

The silence was heavy between them, not even the songs of the birds outside penetrated the eerie mood. It was just them, together again like they had fought for. Harry had waited for so long to feel like this, to know a lovers touch. The reassurance and warmth that that one person could give. And fate was cruel enough to strip that from him, to pull until he was forced to let go, no matter how hard he held on. He had dreaded this day, had known in his heart that it was near. He had hoped, prayed that maybe it would never come, that somehow it would all just go away.

But he was here. Now. Holding onto his lover's hand like a lifeline in a storm. He never wanted to let go.

"I don't want to hear it Severus." He knew, to know was enough, but he didn't think he could hear it. "Don't ever say goodbye." His voice cracked as he spoke.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

Harry lifted his head to look at him, at the soft look on his face. He shook his head, confused. "Why?"

He closed his eyes as a hand lay on his cheek, cool against his hot skin, he leaned into that caress. His heart ached at the familiar touch, his sense soaking up every detail.

"I've tried to stay longer." He whispered, fingers sliding into Harry's hair and trailing down the nape of his neck, smiling at the predictable shiver. He caught the falling tear with his finger, wiping it away.

Harry sniffed, head still shaking as though by doing so he could negate his words, stop them from meaning what they did. "No." he whispered, unsure what he was objecting to.

"I wanted to tell you Harry...that I love you. I have so many things to thank you for." Green eyes opened, shining with tears. "Without you, I would never have felt what I do. You've made me smile, made me laugh. You've opened my heart when I thought it would stay locked and guarded for all eternity." His smile wavered at the looking of aching loss on his young lover's face. "You brought me so much warmth to where I had been so cold for so long. And now I... I couldn't ever imagine being without you."

"I wanted to tell you Harry, that I might be leaving." Harry shook his head again, a strange keening noise growing as he pitched forward, his head resting on its familiar spot near his shoulder. "But I will never be gone. As long as you remember me...I will always be here."

"I don't want you to go." Harry sobbed into his shoulder, into the black T-shirt that he had obviously badgered someone into fetching from his quarters. "I don't want you to go." He followed as a hand pushed at his shoulder, settling him back.

"But I won't be gone." he said again. "I'll be right here." He placed his hand over Harry's heart where it beat like a bird trapped in a cage, his fingers dragging at his shirt as his hand fell back to the covers.

"We'll see each other soon though." Harry said, clutching desperately at his hand, pressing it back against his chest as though somehow he could transfer the life within him to Severus.

"Harry..." sadness weighted his voice, "Don't be so eager to follow me. I will wait for you as long as I need to. Don't throw what you have away. Only fools are eager to die." He said, hand pressing against that wild beat.

Harry nodded, looking down at the starched brightness of the hospital sheets that he had been tucked under too many times. "How am I supposed to smile without you?" he asked brokenly, tears falling fresh on his face, dripping from his chin. He watched where they began to pool on the cotton sheets before soaking in.

"I'm not going to say don't cry. But I want you to carry on. I don't want you to wallow in this, we both knew it was coming. Don't forsake your happiness for what could have been." He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes closing for a second and when he opened them Harry was looking at him with something akin to terror.

"I don't think I can do it Severus."

He paused as he heard movement outside the room.

"Of course you can. And I will always watch over you." He lifted his hand once more to trace the path of tears across his face. "You are so beautiful... I don't think I ever told you enough." He could feel himself growing more tired, colder. "Harry?"

"Yes?" he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Kiss me?"

As if he could deny him now. He leant down, fingers already threading into warm hair as he pressed his lips against his. It was by far the gentlest kiss they had ever shared, and Harry whispered on every breath "I love you." And they ignored the tears, the soul-destroying numbness and instead they kissed. And they did not say goodbye.

Harry drew back and rested his forehead against Severus', acutely aware that every breath that cooled his tear stained cheeks was shorter than the last, held less air until there was nothing. And he pressed one final kiss to his beloved lips, whispered to him one last time, before he drew back.

It was over.

All his dreams torn asunder.

He passed his hand across his face, fingers toying with the end of his hair, placing it just so on the pillow. He traced his way along the line of his arm coming to rest on his hand, the skin already cool beneath his touch. He gazed at him, taking his fill. It was true what they said, the dead always have an air of peace around them. He shook his head slowly and looked away.

He very breath choked him, tears blurred his vision and he struggled to stand. It must have been a full minute until it hit him. Hard. He curled forward, falling to his hands and knees as he cried out, an animalistic howl that tore at his throat and left it sore. His hands clawed at the stone floor, his fingernails catching, tearing and bleeding. The skin on his hands, his knuckles split as he punched at the floor.

He heard footsteps rush into the room, breaths held as madam Pomfrey confirmed what he already knew. He heard the chair screech over stone as McGonagal collapsed into it. There were hands on his shoulders, lifting him up from where he was curled, forehead pressed to the floor.

"Harry?"

He couldn't stay, he half scrambled, half crawled from the room. From where all that caged sorrow was reflected back at him, where his grief was so raw all he could see was red and black, where the smell and taste of blood had washed away the lingering touch of his lover's last kiss.

He collapsed on the other side of the door, the air cooler out here, and where he could just about open his eyes to stare numbly at the ceiling, at the bearded face that stared at him from above.

"Harry?" his face was closer, kneeling beside him. He couldn't answer him. His heart was hammering in his throat when all he wanted was for it to stop. To feel the same calm that he felt when Severus held him in his arms. He couldn't breathe, he didn't want to breath but all the time the cold air rushed in, unable to put out the agonising flames that rushed through him, sucking all the good from his breath. He shivered, not because he was cold, because he was numb to that. But because he could feel himself being torn apart, could actually feel his soul struggling to rip itself from his body. He could feel hands on him, felt himself lifted and put down somewhere softer.

He felt something slide into his veins, both hot and cold as it washed through him, returning his body to normal and focusing all his attention on a warm band of silver on his left hand ring finger. He took a deep breath, coughing as it filled his lungs, stretching and making room for the ache for one blessed second before it was back. A blanket was pulled up over him and he could hear murmured voices and sniffs around him.

"I want to see Ron." He heard himself say, but he wasn't sure anybody heard him. He felt helpless, lying here when he wanted to run. He pushed the blanket back down and struggled to sit up.

"Calm down Harry." It was Pomfrey, staring at him in concern.

"I need to leave." He said bluntly. He looked up at the window, the day outside had turned overcast, sky heavy with rain and thunder as though nature had known.

"Let's just make sure you're fit to leave before you do." She said gently, "Let me see those hands." She tutted even as she cried, peering at them closely. He could feel the oppressing weight of the room behind him, burning at his back, suffocating him as he waited. He heard McGonagal crying, looked across in time to see Dumbledore envelope her in his arms, his own face tear streaked, his beard damp.

He hissed when his hands were swabbed, removing any dirt that he had managed to ingrain in them when he had scraped them across the floor, the potion staining them purple. He watched numbly as she wrapped them lightly, the bandages matching his catheter perfectly.

"I think it would be best if you stayed here Harry." Pomfrey said softly.

He shook his head. "I want to see Ron."

"We can bring him here." She said.

"No." he said quickly. "I... I don't think I could stay here, not now." He stared at is hands.

"We were lovers." He said on hearing her intake of breath. He couldn't say for the life of him why he chose to say it. Maybe it was the desperate need for them to understand. That it wasn't the loss of his teacher. It wasn't even the loss of a friend. But the loss of someone who was so embedded in his heart that was killing him right now. The room was silent and he could almost feel the shock that his words had caused.

There was the rustle of cloth and he felt a hand under his chin, lifting it so that he looked up into pale blue eyes. Harry had always wondered what it would take to shock the headmaster.

"Harry?" he breathed out, obviously unsure whether to believe him.

"I loved him." He keened, "I loved him so much...and now he's gone." he pressed his eyes shut, trying to fight off the misery.

"You were in a relationship?" he was asked quietly, he nodded. "With Severus." He nodded again, the pain fresh at the mention of his name. And then he was being held, the layers and layers of soft material so comforting as they wrapped around him, and he could almost forget when the darkness cloaked his vision, could almost believe that he had died too.

"I want to see Ron." He said again a he was released. He looked at the headmaster, unable to read his expression.

"I assume that mister Weasley knows." Harry nodded defiantly.

"I'm not sorry." He said with a voice much stronger than he was.

"I dare say you're not." And he was awarded with a bittersweet smile. He searched among the folds of his robe until he came across a pocket watch. "They will be at lunch." He said almost to himself.

"Albus?" Pomfrey was looking at him questioningly.

"I have an announcement to make." He said sadly, snapping the watch closed and letting it fall back into the voluminous robes.

"Now Albus?" Pomfrey asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"His children have the right to know." He sighed heavily, "Will you stay here with Minerva?" She nodded. And Dumbledore turned back to him. "Come then Harry." He stood on uncertain legs and took the support of the headmasters arm when it was offered too him.

They left the infirmary, making their way slowly through the dimly lit corridors, the fires low as if a mark of respect. Harry could only concentrate on keeping one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. He had to keep going. Do what Severus told him. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out, the excruciating pain ripping at him. He could see every blessed second that they had been together flashing across his eyes, could see his laugh, his smile. The look in his eyes when he didn't think that Harry was watching. Their first kiss.

He breathed in hard through his nose, blowing out through his mouth.

"I should commend you on a job well done Harry." The headmaster's voice was low in the dark air. "There's not a lot that goes unnoticed by me in this castle. But you and Severus did an exceptional job."

Harry said nothing, unsure exactly how Dumbledore felt about it.

"And I suppose I should thank you." Harry frowned at that, lifting his pale, crumpled face to look at him. "I have noticed that Severus was much... Brighter as of late. It takes a lot to change a man like him. Do you know, he actually had a lemon drop the other day."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the headmaster's inappropriate humour.

"He must have really cared about you to let you into his life... If that ring is anything to go by."

Harry started. He didn't think that he had noticed.

"I'm glad that you were there for him Harry, you both deserved to find some happiness, and I have wanted nothing more for Severus since the war ended. I'm grateful that at the end of all things he had someone with him that he loved, and who loved him."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, wiping at his tears. He was offered a lurid pink and green spotted handkerchief and he smiled as he took it. He plucked his glasses from his face and held the cold cloth to his eyes. He scrunched it up into his hand and replaced his glasses, his steps a little more confident.

It all seemed so surreal, the entrance hall so bright and welcoming, the sounds and smells coming from the great hall inviting. And Harry was trying to deal with his world being ripped from under him. For a second he looked around and was half convinced that he had dreamed it, that it was all still a dream.

They paused at the great wooden doors, both collecting themselves. Dumbledore pulled out another handkerchief to dry his own eyes.

"Is this the best thing Harry?" he asked him soberly.

"I don't think I could be alone right now Sir." Harry replied.

"There's a lot of people in there my boy."

"They're my friends, his children." He took a deep breath. "He told me to keep going."

The headmaster nodded in understanding and took hold of the door handle. They slipped in quietly so as not to draw too much attention. Harry could feel his still sore fingernails digging into the soft bandage as eyes looked towards them. People looked, frowned and nudged their friends, nodding towards them. He couldn't help the way his eyes were dragged towards his, the grey eyes drawing him in, singling him out amidst his housemates. He alone on the Slytherin table had noticed their entrance, and he fixed Harry with a strange look. Harry gave him the chance to take him in, the tears, the grief stricken face. He watched as that perfect face fell, the fork in his hand clattering on the silverware as it was dropped. He could see him shake his head in disbelief, his mouth forming the word 'no'. But he could not refute him. He said it again, much louder this time, with such disbelief and anger that it brought the entire hall to a silence.

Students whipped round in their seats to see what was happening and Harry caught a glimpse of red hair as Ron half stood from the bench.

"Harry?" he heard him say, the soft scrape of his boot as he brought it over the bench to meet the other one. He looked at Ron and his brave façade cracked. He could feel his lips tremble, his eyes tear and spill behind his glasses. He could make out the shock on his friends face, could hear Hermione whisper "Oh no." her hands pressed to her face.

"I'm afraid I have a grave announcement to make." Dumbledore's voice carried easily on the silence, his grip on Harry's shoulder tightening. It seemed as though he needed Harry's support just as much as Harry needed him. There was a small movement from the head table where the other professors had leaned forwards in their chairs, obviously oblivious to what could have gone so disastrously wrong. Had the secret been that well kept?

"A short while ago... Professor Snape died."

Perfect silence.

His statement hung in the air like the first snow of winter, like the uncertain belief of hearing something upon waking. Harry looked around.

Waiting

And then a wall of sound drowned out his thoughts. There were cries of shock and outrage, he was pretty sure that he heard a girl scream, but that could only be the Slytherin's. His devoted children grieving for a father lost. The rest of the hall looked at a loss for what to do, they stared at each other, at him, at Dumbledore. From the head table came the questions, the tears of colleagues. He could still hear Draco Malfoy.

"I know a lot of you..." Dumbledore carried on, quelling the noise level with his voice, his grip still tight on his shoulder. "Were not...fond of Severus. But to those who knew him, to those who loved him." And here he pressed his fingers against him, "He was above all... a good man, and I believe I am right in saying that he will be missed." He dropped his head to indicate that he had finished and the hall erupted into chaos again. Questions were thrown back and forth between tables.

"It can't be true..."

"How..."

"How could Snape die..."

It was a question he had asked himself once. How could the almighty, the omnipotent Severus Snape die? It was just something he had never considered, much like everyone in the hall. It was a slap in the face to find out that your teachers were human too, with feelings and weaknesses...and downfalls.

"Mr Weasley." He heard Dumbledore call his friend, "If you could."

Harry knew that as soon as he let go he would fall. Five minutes ago he could believe that it wasn't real, that if no one else knew it couldn't be true. But now he stood in the centre of a furious maelstrom eyes dead and unseeing as they blurred. The pounding in his head played perfect percussion to the aching hollow in his chest. He heard his name called, by many others than Ron and hands were on him, but he was falling. The sudden rush and the sharp pain as he hit the floor were dulled by the darkness that pressed in on all sides.

He couldn't take it anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry sat at an empty table in the library. He was surprised how many students were actually here. Classes had been cancelled and the weather had turned nasty.

He could feel the stares on him, knew he looked a mess, his eyes red and unseeing as he stared at the parchment in front of him.

It had only been two days. 48 hours since their last kiss, just two days since he had run his fingers through his hair, felt the rhythm of his heart beneath his palm, had seen his rare smile.

Two days and it was an eternity like no other. Where the only person he wanted was the one person he couldn't have.

He shook his head and rifled through the papers, searching for a clean sheet.

"Hey Harry." He looked up.

"Hey guys." He said quietly, not in the mood to tell them to leave him. Ron sat down on his left, Hermione on his right whilst Dean, Neville and Seamus took the seats opposite.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked him carefully. Harry hadn't spoken too much in the past couple days, but he had always stayed in their presence preferring to let them talk while he listened. Today was the first day that he had left the sanctuary of the tower since he had collapsed at dinner. While he had been bed ridden he had had a few visitors, mainly the staff, his doctor, even Remus had come by after having learnt the news, although he had left a little paler after seeing Harry.

"I'm rewriting my will." He said quite matter of factly, turning the corners of a short stack of papers to his left. "Could you pass me that please?" he asked Neville who handed him an inkbottle. He drew the pages towards him and marked the corners of certain ones, dividing them up into separate piles.

"Your will?" Ron looked a little puzzled, "But I thought you'd..." he drifted off, a look of dawning comprehension.

"It'll need a lot of revising since Severus left me just about everything he owned." He turned back to his marking and sorting, pulling out one in particular and placing it front of Ron. "Congratulations mate, you get the country house in Buckinghamshire." He tapped the paper and dragged out another, thicker folder, dropping it in front of his stunned friend. "But that's the one you really want." The folder read 'Snape Manor' "One hundred and forty seven rooms. Seventy acres of land, forty two acres of forest, one lake, a stable and enough anti muggle wards to play Quidditch in."

"And this one goes to you." He handed Hermione an old contract that was written in flowing ink. "It's the combined royalties of all the potions he commercialised. It comes up at about half a million galleons a year."

Hermione read through the list, shocked. "He invented Pepper Up?"

Harry nodded, "When he was seventeen."

"Not that I'm not grateful Harry...But what about his family?" She asked, placing the paper back on the pile that Harry had picked it from.

"They're dead." He said sadly, "Every single one of them."

It was one thing they could relate to at least, the pain of not having a family. No mother or father to seek counsel from, no brothers or sisters to talk to.

"But...why did he leave it all to you?" Neville asked him. Beside him he felt Ron and Hermione tense. He took a deep breath and passed a heavy hand over his face.

"Because he loved me." He said simply, he sighed. He looked around at the culmination of a life. Of the materialistic possessions of the one he had loved so dearly. He shook his head. "Because he loved me." He whispered miserably, letting his head fall to rest on the table. He gave a low growl suddenly and pulled him self up, ripping off his glasses and rubbing his face sharply before slamming his fists down on the table making just about everyone in the library jump. He heaved a sigh and gave Hermione an appreciative smile when she laid her hand on his.

He looked at his dorm mates across the table, their expectant confusion was no surprise to him. It had been a surprise when he had told the headmaster, even when he had told Remus. But he knew to expect it from these guys.

"Severus and I..." he tried to think of a word that wouldn't freak them out, "We..." Fuck it. "Were lovers." He had pitched it so that only those at the table could hear him, but the resultant "What!" From Seamus brought the library's attention back down on them. He gave them the universal 'quiet down' gesture and looked around. He wasn't sure if he wanted everyone to know.

"You and Snape!" Neville stuttered, as though the very utterance of the man's name would bring him back from the dead and his full vengeful wrath with him.

"Yes Neville. Me and Snape." He said dryly, "That's as much as I want to say right now. I told you because you are my friends, and I trust you not go behind my back. It'll probably explain any errant behaviour as well." He added quietly, falling back to his work.

"So he left you...what, his entire estate?" Ron asked, smoothly moving the conversation on.

Harry nodded. "Pretty much, there are some things that are going to the school and other people. Draco Malfoy I believe gets a rather priceless artefact that I'd really rather not go into right about now. Needless to say it's large, scary and most definitely something I wouldn't want in my house."

Later. Much later, after he had sent them away so that he could concentrate. When the sky had grown dark and it had been fifty-five hours since their last kiss. He packed up his work from his table where no one else had sat all day, despite the library being so full and headed slowly back to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone was there already, playing a half hearted game of exploding snap, the tone still sombre despite Snape being the arch nemesis of every Gryffindor. The students were listless, unsure of where things stood in the nature of things. Even if Fred and George had still been around Harry would be sure that even they would be hard pushed to work up the enthusiasm to pull a prank.

The clock on the mantle chimed and everyone got up from their seats to go down to dinner. He told Ron to go when he said that he would wait for him, that he just wanted to put his things in the dorm and maybe have a wash, that he wouldn't be more than ten minutes. Ron looked a little unsure but left him to it.

He had hovered in his dorm, fingers running over the canopy curtains for want of something to do. He was lost and he had no one to show him the way. He looked out of the window, at the heavy sky and lashing rain. At least the rest of the country could be miserable with him. He made his way slowly down the stairs, his only just healed fingers dragging on the rough stone. He was just about to pull open the door when he caught sight of someone sitting in the chair in front of the fire. He stepped back.

"Colin?"

The boy looked round, a closed look on his young face. "Dinner has started." He told him.

"I know." He replied. Harry frowned and walked over to him, sitting down next to him and staring at the fire. He waited for the other boy to talk and was surprised when instead he fished around inside his jumper, pulling something out from the pocket of his shirt and handed it to Harry.

"I took it at Christmas." He explained, "Christmas Eve actually. It's the only picture I have of him where he isn't snarling." Harry looked down at it, he could see Severus leaning back in his chair, his eyes soft in the candlelight as he watched, every now and then he could see the way he raised his hand, a finger tracing his lip as he tried to hide the slight curve of his lips. It was a gesture that Harry had seen so many times. He smiled down at the black and white image, thumb running along the edge.

"You seemed so upset, I thought you might like it." Colin said, watching Harry's face as he watched the image of his lover.

"Thank you Colin." His gratitude heart felt. The room returned to silence, the crackling of the fire keeping his focus. Next to him Colin sighed.

"You might find this silly." The boy said, leaning forward, his face out of Harry's vision. He paused, as thought in a quandary over what to say. "But... I had quite a bit of a crush on him."

Harry stared at him wide eyed.

His shock mingled with an irrefutable wave of jealousy. He wanted to shout at him, scream "He's mine." But at the same time he wanted to hug him. Because even though it was a pale imitation of what he felt for Severus, there was still someone who might have an incline to how he felt.

But the moment was lost. Colin had stood and was already headed toward the door. He looked back down at the photo as the door shut behind him. He leaned back into the couch and propped his feet up on the table. He forgot all about dinner.

He felt ill.

Deathly ill. And tired. Was this what it had felt like for him? How could he have gone on day after day?

"I don't know how you did it." He whispered, fingertips catching on the sharp edges of engraved words. He tipped his head so that the light didn't glare up at him, so he could read the words again, like he had done a thousand times already. In his other hand his palm bleed. The thorns digging into smooth flesh as he gripped the rose.

He stood up on tip toes so he could lean over and press his lips to the cold metal inlaid into dark ebony wood, the imprint of his lovers name on his lips.

"I love you." He whispered, again. His breath misting the gold and he watched in fascination as it highlighted the kiss that he had left there.

There was a soft knock behind him, and he knew that it was time. He stepped back from the coffin, laying in state on its pedestal of draped white silk, and thousand and one roses scented the air as they hung on the walls. He breathed in hard, his hand lingering as it the wood slid beneath it, the smooth polish and grain cool and foreign to him.

But the black. The black was all him.

He stepped back, reluctant to take his eyes from this final sight. But he'd reached the door, and he had to turn, had to let Ron take him by the arm because there was no way now that he could walk on his own. His eyes flitted over the faces of the six chosen. Their eyes red but their backs straight as they waited. A flash of understanding grey eyes.

The weather had lifted in the days that had passed and the sun had come out on another glorious summer day. The trees were too green, the sky too bright. The bird song much too loud.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet in a way that was far too casual. The sun was too hot on his back, must have loved having so much black to soak into.

The chair was too hard, but a relief to his tired limbs.

The hand on his back was welcome though, a light in the dark. It moved in slow circles, calming him a little and bringing him back to the here and now. He lifted his eyes and focused a little better now.

He'd never been to a funeral before, didn't really know what to expect. He wasn't quite prepared for the hundreds of people, sitting like black puppets, their voices soft in the summer air. Of course the school was there, hundreds of young faces staring dutifully ahead as though in another class. But there was a great deal more. Old friends and acquaintances, work and research partners, house staff. They had all come, surprising many. Harry didn't know that Severus had known this many people.

Harry sat on the front row, his rose still pressed in his hand. With Ron beside him. It was something that had not gone unnoticed. There had been many whispers that had drifted through the castle the past week, strange looks that followed him wherever he went.

"... Be that upset."

"...Didn't know they were close"

"... Say's they were more than friends."

He ignored them all, but it was hard, because they didn't know how close to the truth they were. His dorm mates had been good, they had waylaid the rumours, giving excuses and explanations here and there. But it didn't stop the gossip, the sibilant words that always found his ears.

He stared ahead at the main doors to Hogwarts, the old oak flung wide and its pillars and supports decorated with twisted vines of roses and ivy. It was like some sickening parody of a wedding. The breeze knocked the petals loose so that they fell like snow and drifted down to lie scattered on the grass. He leaned down and picked one up, rubbing the velvety silk between his fingers, could feel himself being watched. He held it in his hand for a moment before tucking it into his pocket.

He stared dumbly at the empty dais, it's own draped material fluttered in the breeze, brushing along the gravel path. His throat felt closed as he gazed, imagining that any moment now heavy black wood so dark in the sunlight.

He saw movement in front of his eyes and whipped his head around to look at the white tissue that Ron had waved in front of his face. He took hold of it and smiled his thanks, he balled it up loosely in his fist, feeling it absorb the clammy feeling.

"Are you going to be okay mate?" he was asked softly, the hand on his back slipping to his arm.

"Yeah." Harry said, not believing himself even as a bell sounded somewhere deep inside the castle. He took another deep breath and stood along with everyone else as the headmaster walked slowly down the castle steps. But Harry didn't look at him, his eyes went instead straight to the six boys who bore the greatest burden on their shoulders.

He cried. Not the hysterical tears that had consumed him in those agonising first minutes. But the numb tears of aching loss. And he wasn't the only one. All around him staff and students alike sniffed and sobbed, white roses matching the tissues in their hands.

He was sure that he was leaning far too much on Ron, sure that he would fall if her were not there. But he stood, and he watched as they walked towards the dais, so slowly, with measured, even, practised, steps. They moved as one, sliding the weight from their shoulders, lowering it slowly until he lay proudly atop the white silk. He watched those grey eyes linger slightly, the tears that had spilled from them left unchecked on his pale face a he walked away.

He didn't hear him as Dumbledore began to talk, his powerful voice catching the ears of all those who had gathered. His words felt empty, the praise and adulation felt heavy in his mind. But he could feel the emotion behind them, felt the sadness and loss, the sorrow and grief of every syllable that echoes in the back of his mind and fell from his eyes as bitter cold tears.

He couldn't be sure how long he talked for, it seemed like an age, but at the same time only a few minutes. The air was turning cold again and he shivered despite the layers that he had put on this morning. He had so fervently wished that he hadn't given Severus his shirt back, he would have been able to handle it so much better with the presence of his lover soft against his skin. But he had to make do with the photo that was safely enclosed in his shirt pocket, safe so close to his heart. Hermione had given him a small leather wallet in which to keep it so that the edges wouldn't get worn and dog-eared. The soft folds were warm against his chest and he lifted his hand to caress it slowly. His knuckles brushed against the cold silver of the charm hanging around his neck. The medallion swung free from its usual place. He liked to keep it on show now, a constant reminder of his promise to Severus. He tried to smile now, thought back to one of the nights that they had shared together, with him sitting curled up against him, legs thrown over his lap and his head on his shoulder. He could almost feel the way he ran his fingers through his hair, could nearly hear the soft, smoky voice as he read to him. He would pause every now and then while harry turned one of the pages for him and he was rewarded with a fond smile and sometimes a kiss to the top of his head.

He thought of the time when he had let them paint the wall, could remember the smile that was being kept in check as he unleashed his boyish enthusiasm with Ron.

He remembered the ghost of his hands as they ran the length of his back. The way they smoothed down his arms and gripped his wrists, lifting them above his head so that they lay flush against each other.

He remembered Christmas day, when he had so shyly given him his present. Revelled in the thought of his laugh, that first time he had heard it, the way his eyes lit up and the way Harry's breath had been taken away. The first time he had realised that Severus was truly beautiful.

He could see that day in his office. The ruin and destruction he had caused, the heat of his palm against his chest before it moved up, those long fingers curling around his neck, just edging into his hair. Those dark eyes so uncertain and yet filled with hope. He ached with the remembrance of the way those lips first touched his, the light brush, barely there. And then all consuming, their mutual desire so long kept in check suddenly released.

He could still here his last words ringing in his ears. 'I will be right here...Kiss me.'

At last the drone of the headmaster's voice levelled out and silence reined again. He was aware of people standing. Of Ron coaxing him to stand himself.

"It's time to say goodbye Harry." He whispered to him, hand on the small of his back.

Harry shook his head. Never goodbye. He gripped the rose in his hand even tighter, opening up the small cuts again, but the pain was a blessing, it helped him to see through his tears.

It seemed much bigger now as he stood beside it, the sun caressing the wood, finding all the small glints of brown and highlighting them, perfectly offsetting the gold. He raised his unsteady hand and reached over, placing the rose just beside his name, the blood tipped thorns shone merrily beneath the sun. He let his fingers trace his name again and whispered softly, "I love you." Just once more, not caring if they heard him, because this would be the last time he could tell him. His hand fell back to his side and he went as he was lead away, looking back as others walked past, each placing their flowers around his. The dark wood was soon being covered, layered in white as they kept coming.

He was still watching when Hermione joined them, her eyes downcast and he could tell that even she had cried. She was followed by his year mates who stood around him as though guarding him.

"Are you alright Harry?" Lavender asked him gently, laying a hand in his arm. He nodded to her and turned his face back. They eyed him sadly, unsure what they could say or do for him. But there was nothing they could so.

"Why don't we go and sit by the lake Harry?" Hermione offered gently, taking hold of his other arm. He allowed himself to be lead down the path and past the tree until each time he looked back all he could see was the flowered arch above the hilltop. He threw himself down miserably at the lakeside, his fingers curling around a large flat pebble, remembering when he had skimmed them that blustery afternoon.

He couldn't remember having ever cried so much.

He was gone.

He was surprised that he had managed to fool Madam Pomfrey again. He'd have thought that she was getting wise to him by now. Obviously not.

He sat on the second from last step, his head leaning against the spoke as he stared at the floor. Or more precisely the large brass plaque that had been laid only days before. It was funny, he had always known that the plaques bore the name of the people buried there. But he had never actually stopped to consider the shocking thought that they were lying beneath your feet. This one was much brighter, much fresher than all the rest, he doubted that anyone had died at Hogwarts for quite some time, but some part of him thought he would have been taken back to his home where he could have been with his family again. But Dumbledore had told him, just yesterday, that he had always considered the school to be his home.

Another way in which they were alike.

He thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. She had finally come to find him. He didn't know how it took her so long, he was always in the same place.

The footsteps stopped as they reached him and there was a long pause.

"You were more than just friends, weren't you?" Malfoy asked as he sat down next to him, arms folded on his knees as he stared at the same brass plaque that Harry was so focused on.

Harry looked at him, at the pale face, the bloodshot eyes. His usually neat hair was slightly ruffled and his tie was hung around his neck under a twisted collar. There was no censure in his words, no malice in the way he sat next to him as though they had been friends for years.

"Yes." He answered, emotion devoid in his voice. He noticed the way the Slytherin's lips curled into a half smile.

"Should have known really. He didn't shout at us nearly as much as he used to this year."

They continued to sit in silence watching as the moonlight filtered through one of the high stained glass windows and spilled it's fragmented light across the floor. Harry stared at his hands, turning them over to look t the small cuts that he had refused to have healed, like his own personal stigmata. The ring lay snugly on his finger, never having been taken off since the day it was put there. How he wished he could call him his husband.

"I'm sorry Potter." Harry frowned, "That you had to lose someone you loved."

He didn't know quite know what to say but he was saved the discomfort when the other boy stood and dusted off his trousers. He took the last two steps and walked to the centre of the hall where he kneeled, his hand over his heart as he whispered something that didn't quite reach Harry's ears. He placed his hands against the floor and bowed down until his forehead touched the cold metal. It was an odd display that Harry thought that non but he did.

The blonde unfolded easily and stood smoothly, his eyes slid back to Harry and he gave him a polite nod which he returned, watching as he left, taking the stairs down to the dungeons.

He continued to sit and watch the moons light pass across the floor until Pomfrey did come to find him and reluctantly he went back to bed.


	16. Chapter 16

After the third day he had decided that boredom could definitely kill. He sighed again, turning his head so that the light didn't quite shine in his eyes.

It had been too long.

The days had been too long, drawn out. Each minute had lasted an hour, each hour felt like a year. He hadn't been down stairs for days, his arms and legs too heavy and weak to support him the necessary distance it took to be with him. He tried to sleep, couldn't eat. Felt far too sick and empty to even think. He could hear Dr Andrew in Madam Pomfrey's office. They were no doubt arguing over whether or not he should be transferred to the hospital.

But it was too late, and he thinks they all know it.

Ron and Hermione spend every spare moment they can with him, his cold and trembling hands curled up and held between theirs. Sometimes the others come, they talk to him, tell him about the world outside the hospital wing. Once he had woken up and was sure he had seen the tall slim shape of the Slytherin seeker. But he had blinked and he was gone.

They brought him books and magazines and Hermione sat and read to him while Ron played with his hair. But it wasn't the same.

McGonagal came back to tell him that she had finally managed to get rid of that family of Kneazles. He had raised up enough effort to smile at her.

He swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat and idly wondered if he could bother calling Pomfrey for a drink, but at that moment the doors opened and his friends strolled in. Hermione looked really stressed, but no wonder. The N.E.W.T.s were taking place far below him and she had been staying up till all hours doing last minute revision.

"Hi Harry." She said, slumping into the chair beside his bed. "Are you feeling any better."

"Oh, just peachy." He lied, shifting his legs over a little as Ron sat on the edge of his bed.

"Well just be glad you don't have to do the N.E.W.T.s." she said glaringly "They don't call them Nastily Exhaustive for nothing." She dropped her bag at her feet. She looked at him, her features softening. "How are you holding up, is the new stuff working."

"A little." He said, "They help with the headaches and cramps but I'm still just as tired."

"Do you want to sit up a little?" Ron asked and Harry nodded, holding his head forward as he adjusted the pillows so that he could see them properly.

"Could I have a drink." He indicated the pitcher. Hermione went about pouring out a glass and held it to his lips as he drank, the water cool and clean in his mouth. He let his head fall back against the pillows. Just one small discomfort solved, now he had to sort out the other one hundred and eighteen.

"Tell me about the exam." He whispered, his eyes closing as she began to talk. It was a small comfort, to have his friends here, they could distract him from the ever decreasing circles that his mind ran in. the same thoughts whirling around in his head and overlapping creating a chaos of noise and vision that grew louder and brighter until someone came to shake him from it.

Below him he could hear the sounds of hundreds of footsteps converging as they made their way to dinner, no doubt stepping around the newly laid memorial like he had seen them do. It seemed these days that no matter how busy the entrance hall was these days there was always a neat rectangle of free space. They didn't bother with the others.

"You guys should be going down to dinner." He told them weakly. He didn't see them cast their worried glances across his bed.

"We already ate, went to the kitchens before coming up." Ron told him, and Harry knew it was a lie.

"Besides, I don't really feel like going down right now." Hermione interjected. "You know how I get after an exam, I have to ask every one what they put for question fourteen."

Harry could feel the slight smile on his face and he allowed them to stay, listening as they talked softly to each other and to him. They had a few words with his doctor when he came back to say goodbye and when the nurse came to see to him. He let them stay even when they washed him, comforted by their presence.

The night grew dark around them, the light seeping from the sky as the torches burst into life. It was nearing curfew, or so he could tell by the ticking and chiming of the clock on the far wall.

"Guys?" he said softly, disturbing the heavy silence. He heard them answer. "Thanks." He said, his eyes dragging open to look at them. "Thanks for staying with me."

Hermione shook her head and leaned forwards to push the hair back from his face. "You don't have to thank us Harry."

Harry moved his head into her hand, enjoying the touch. "You've been great. I couldn't hope for better friends."

"And we couldn't have hoped for a better friend." Ron repeated, his hand hot on Harry's

Harry turned his head, eyes on the clock. "You should go. Pomfrey will be by with some god awful potion to make me sleep."

Ron looked at his watch. "You're right, we should go." He bent to retrieve his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Come on Mione, time to stop badgering the boy." He waited while she gathered her own things. "We'll come see you in the morning okay, we don't have Charms till the afternoon."

"Okay." His hand dropped as it slipped out of Hermione's grasp. He watched them as they walked out of the infirmary, their shadows black against the torchlight. They stopped in the door and waved back at him before vanishing from his sight altogether. Then almost on cue, Madam Pomfrey came bustling down the ward, a single vial in her hand.

"Time again Harry." She told him, moving him as she removed the pillow beneath his head so that he could lie flat. "I've tried to make this one taste a little better." He said, uncorking the phial and lifting his head.

The liquid was still bitter on his tongue and he held it in his mouth, letting himself be arranged beneath the covers. "Goodnight Harry." She said fondly, passing a hand over his hair as she stepped back. He waited until she was in her office before he turned his head and spit the potion onto his pillow. He breathed in through his mouth, the vapours on his tongue made his head feel heavy but at least it hadn't sent him to sleep.

He waited for what felt like an eternity before he heard the Matron leave her office, locking the door behind her and crossing the short distance to the door which lead to her personal rooms. His eyes snapped open in the dark. The moonlight had highlighted everything in silver and blue, lending an air of coldness to the usually warm castle.

He heard the clock chime.

It was time.

With considerable effort he raised his arms under the covers, pushing at the heavy wool until it was bunched at his waist. He struggled to sit up, his arms under him were shaking madly as he righted himself. Days of laying down made his head spin as soon as he was upright and he took a couple of minutes to gain his senses. He somehow managed to free his legs from the warm covers, shivered as the exposed skin on his feet hit the cold air. It was good though. It would keep him focused.

Now for the hard part. Slowly, oh so slowly he slipped down the side of the bed, his hands twisted as tight as they could go in the sheets as he lowered himself to the floor. He felt his knees give out beneath him, but managed to turn in time though to catch his weight on the bed, knowing that if he fell there was no chance of him getting up from the cold stone floor. He prayed that Pomfrey hadn't heard the commotion he had just caused and waited until five minutes, then ten had passed before he allowed himself to move again.

He tried a tentative step away from the bed, his legs seeming to hold his weight all right. He stepped again, and again, gripping the ends of the beds as he passed each one until he came to the doors. He opened one quietly, listening hard for any noise in the corridor outside. He slipped out as stealthily as he could, staying close to the wall so that he could lean on it.

For a paralysing moment he thought he heard the feared mewing of Filtch's cat, but she must have been going the other way. He carried on, down another corridor, around a corner and along another, trying to stay away from the windows that looked out onto the courtyard, fearing that they would see him. He sighed with relief as he found himself at the top of the stairs and he gently lowered himself down onto the top most step, his head resting against the stone banister. He breathed deeply for a while, his eyes drifting closed as he waited. He was so tired, just wanted to go to sleep.

He shook himself and placed his hands against the step, he shifted, sliding down onto the next one. The cold stone seeped through the thin pyjamas he wore but he ignored it for now, he had other things to think about. His progress was slow, each of his steps closer felt a though they had taken another hour, and he was sure that the sun would rise before he could reach him.

But finally... Finally he found his feet touching the floor to the entrance hall and he could feel tears of completion in his eyes. He tipped forward onto his hands, crawling the required distance until he could collapse heavily to the floor his hand spread out over the cold words.

"I'm here now." He whispered, eyes closing.

He woke to the freezing cold, his teeth chattering and his entire body aching. He could feel the bruises on his knees from where he had crawled, could hardly move his frost bitten fingers.

"Harry?"

His name was spoken softly, bringing him back to awareness. He could feel the tears frozen behind his eyes. He sucked in a breath that seemed to rattle in his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, so warm that it seemed to thaw him and he made a small noise in his throat to issue his pleasure. He tried to move his hand from where he had curled it up beneath his head but he was sure it had stuck to the ground.

"Come on Harry. Wake up. We need to get you somewhere warm." The voice was quite insistent and Harry agreed with them whole heartedly, but he just couldn't find the energy to move. That blessed hand on his arm ran up and over his shoulder, eventually cupping his face.

Harry felt that touch in his heart, in the empty aching pit where his soul used to reside. He felt his eyes fly open, the world too bright for them to focus just yet. But when they did he couldn't help the grin that spread out on his face.

Severus knelt beside him, his face concerned as he stroked along his face.

"Severus?" he breathed, aching to reach out and touch him, to make sure it was really him.

"That's right." He replied, he undid the jacket that he was wearing and draped it over Harry's prone form, the warmth that it had soaked up from the man's body fading into his.

""But you..." He looked around. He was still in the entrance hall, his hand still spread out over his name. "This isn't real is it?" he asked sadly.

"We don't have time to talk Harry. We need to get you moved before it's too late." He sounded anxious which worried harry. It took a lot to make Severus anxious.

"Too late?" he whispered his voice still unsure and wavering. His heart sang as those hands were on him again, pulling him up so that he could look his lover in the eye. He seemed so real.

"Until too much time has passed and you have to stay." He told him as he pulled him to his feet, his body protesting each move but relishing the way that jacket was pulled more securely around his shoulders. He noticed that Severus had nodded over his shoulder. He turned his stiff neck to look at what he was staring at.

He was still there, lying on the floor of the entrance hall to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His skin was white, lips pale blue, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

"I died." He breathed, not quite able to believe what he was seeing. He looked back at the man holding him. "I'm dead?"

Severus looked at him, an unreadable emotion in his eyes, as though he didn't know whether to be sad or elated. "Yes." He said simply, awaiting Harry's response.

Harry could feel the smile blossom on his face, his hands raised until they could touch his face, the warmth beginning to seep back into them. "I died." He whispered again to himself. He looked up suddenly, eyes wide as he met his lovers.

"Does that mean I can come with you...now?" he asked, such beautiful hope etched onto his face.

"If you want to." Severus smiled in return, "Or you could stay." He said, giving him the option. He was relieved when Harry shook his head fiercely.

"I want to come with you." He slid his fingers into the soft black hair, arms throwing themselves around his neck as he hugged Severus hard. "I want to be with you." He opened his eyes, peering over his shoulders at the odd sight before him, he frowned and tipped his head even as he hugged him.

"Is that where we're going?" he asked curiously slipping from his lovers arms. Severus turned with him to look at the door that seemed to have appeared in the middle of the entrance hall, it's white frame glowing a little around the edges.

"Yes." Severus replied, taking him by the hand, "Come see." Harry glanced back at where he lay, so still and so cold on the stone floor. His eyes closed forever more. He felt a slight tug at his heart. But the hand in his was warm and strong, it was so familiar and welcome as he held on to it, following as he was lead. He looked at the door that they were approaching, so out of place in the archaic castle with its neat shape and white paint. As he drew closer he squinted his eyes as the light grew, seeming to draw him closer, a feeling of serenity flowed towards him. A smirk graced his lips. So it is like the movies, he thought.

He stopped when Severus did, the other man taking both his hands and turning him to look him squarely in the eyes.

"Harry... I want you to be sure." He said softly. "If you go, you can never come back."

Harry frowned, "But you did." He argued. Severus shook his head impatiently.

"To come and guide you." He said, "So many children remain lost in this world because they can't find the way out. I came back for you." Harry's eyes dropped to the floor. "You have to be sure Harry, or it will destroy you, look back,"

He did as he was told, he looked at the moon painted entrance hall, at the torches low in their brackets. He saw the echoes of fond memories as he rushed through the door from Quidditch practice, he saw the endless stream of students laughing and shouting after the Christmas feast.

"Understand Harry, that this is it. It is over. You can not come back to your friends, to this world if you choose to go through."

His voice was soft, his hands supporting him. Could he give it all up? He knew he was to leave someday, and his friends would leave too. Would he then be bound to Hogwarts? Like the other ghosts?

But he was being given the chance, he could stay and spend the rest of eternity here. Or he could leave, and be with Severus. He felt his hands tighten, he took a deep breath and faced him.

"I still want to go. I want to go with you." He said strongly, there was no way he would want Severus to think him weak in this.

He saw Severus smile and nod, his arm going wide to open the door. It swung easily on his hinges and he followed as Severus stepped through. He looked back one last time, on the only place he had ever called home, a silent goodbye on his lips as the door shut quietly.

He placed his hand on the door, his forehead followed and he stood there bowed for a short while.

It was all gone.

He wondered that if it would still be there if he wrenched open the door. But he knew in his heart that it wouldn't. He had known it was coming, had felt it in his bones for days. But the truth was painful, to leave them all behind.

Arms held him from behind and he leaned back against a warm chest, his head falling back to a strong shoulder.

"Did it hurt this much for you?" He asked, voice edging on a whisper.

"It hurts for everyone, all change does." He was turned in his embrace, eyes captured with his gaze. "You died Harry. It's not an easy thing to handle." He offered him a small smile. "But you'll be alright, it doesn't last long."

Harry nodded and wiped his eyes on the borrowed sleeve of Severus's jacket, nodding and smiling weakly as an arm was placed around his shoulders and they started to walk.

Harry looked around him, at the large grass fields that waved gently in the breeze beneath the summer sun. "So...is this heaven." He asked, surveying the large forest that seemed so full of life. Everything seemed to radiate an innate sense of calm and tranquillity. Beside him Severus laughed.

"There's no such thing as Heaven and Hell Harry." He said, as though explaining it to a first year. "It's the next life." They took a worn path down the side of a hill, the sounds of waves crashing against the beach in the distance, above them white gulls circled and wheeled. "What you see is everything you want it to be." Harry looked up at him, taking the coat from his shoulders and bundling it up under his arm.

"Do you remember Harry, that day when you came to me, and you told me about our little house by the sea?"

"Yeah." He nodded, following the movement of his hand as he pointed up the road ahead of them.

And there it was, just like he had seen in his mind. The small cottage sitting in the confines of it's neat garden with the chimney smoking gently. It was all there, the woods out the back, the path down to the beach. Everything.

"And I have some paper and string for you." Severus whispered as Harry stared at the vision wide eyed.

"It's wonderful." He breathed, his steps quickening to reach it faster. As he drew closer he saw the shape of an eager looking black Labrador standing up against the fence, it's tongue out and it's tail wagging madly. Harry gave a little jump and clapped with delight, he skipped ahead a couple of steps and spun around in a joyous move.

"A dog?!" he laughed, "We have a dog?"

Severus laughed at his response and nodded, "That was my addition. I was never allowed one as a child."

He watched happily as Harry sprinted to the gate, unmindful of the fact that he didn't wear shoes, and lean over to stroke the dog who licked him and jumped up like two best friends who had spent the summer apart.

He opened the latch and let them both in so the Harry could crouch down and sling his arms around it's neck, his face pressed into the warm black fur.

"What's he called?" he asked.

"Sirius."

For a moment Harry's face fell, and then frowned as Severus smiled. "You don't have to worry about him Harry. I've already told him, not sure he was best pleased about it, but what can he do."

Harry unfolded himself and rose unsteadily from the ground. What was Severus saying? "You've talked to Sirius?" he asked, his voice trembling, as though not daring to believe. The look in his lover's eyes softened.

"Yes. He's here." He held a hand to Harry's shocked face, "Had quite a pleasant conversation with him the other day. The good thing about this place Harry, is that it calms your temper dramatically." He said, a smile on his lips.

Harry was still in shock. Sirius was here? That meant that he did die. He had always denied it to himself, but there was still that niggling feeling that burrowed at his heart when he thought about the veil. It must have been a doorway. But that meant that if he had died, and he was here, then his parents must be too. He took a steadying breath and focused on the ground under his feet.

Would he really, finally get to meet his parents?

"My parents?" he asked, the breath caught in his throat.

"You can see them too." Severus told him gently. "That's the beauty of this place, anywhere you want to be, anything you want. You just close your eyes and wish, and there it will be when you open them again."

He felt a grin spread over his face. The cold was finally lifting, the happiness spreading through him with each new thought. He had thought that the castle was home, but it was nothing compared to this. To their little cottage where Severus would read to him at night and they would take the dog down to the beach, where Harry would collect the shells and thread them onto some string to hang on the wall in the bathroom.

"Another thing," Severus said, his hands sliding up Harry's arm in a gesture that he had come to love, a fond indulgent smile on his face, "Is that everything you feel now...stay's the same. All the happiness and joy in your heart will remain with you forever, what we feel will be renewed and reborn everyday. Nothing gets old. Every day will be a new day, every kiss," he lowered his head, lips just brushing against his. Harry sighed, forgetting just how good it could feel, "Will be our first kiss, every time will be our first time."

He paused, his cheek pressed against Harry's, breath hot in his ear. "We will love each other until the end of time."

Harry couldn't help the smile on his face, couldn't deny the pull of those strong arms as he was gathered up, his feet swinging free of the ground as he wrapped his legs around Severus' waist. He placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Then I can't wait to get started."

An Epilogue of Sorts.

"I just thought that you two should like to be the first." His warm voice sounded oddly strange as they walked, the gravel crunching underfoot.

"It was very nice of you to think of us Sir." She said, hurrying a little to keep up with them both.

"Oh, non of that anymore, it's Albus or nothing." He waved them both down, "How is everything going with you two anyway?"

"Great." Hermione said, "I got the post at the research company." She said brightly.

"And I got into Ministry Defence." Ron said proudly.

"And so you should have." Dumbledore told them, "With results like yours, you should both be very proud." He smiled at them both as they took the steps. "And have you set a date?"

They both blushed and Ron answered, "Not quite yet, but we're hoping for June next year. It's gives us time to sort everything out."

"You'll come of course won't you Albus?" she asked.

"Of course my child, of course." He pushed open the heavy door with surprising ease. "It's always nice to see my children growing up."

His statement was met with saddened nods as they slowly entered the entrance hall, the three of them being pulled towards the shining plaque.

"I had it laid the just this morning." Dumbledore said sadly, gazing at it with misty eyes.

Hermione sniffed and Ron took hold of her hand, his eyes fixed on her tearful face. If there's anything you've taught me Harry, he thought, it was that you should never take chances when it comes to love. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked back to the ground.

"He would have like that." She said airily.

Ron smiled.

"I think they both would."

Harry Potter

Severus Snape

Together

At the end of

All things


End file.
